Lucky 13
by Script Savage
Summary: Roxas blames himself for the horrific accident that killed his sister and put his best friend in a coma. Can the beautiful paramedic who saved him help him see that it wasn't his fault, or will the mental and emotional trauma be too much for them both? AU
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts. **

**Okay...I honestly have no idea where this idea came from. I just have this insatiable urge to _write_ it. Seriously, it's keeping me up at night. **

**So anyways, I hope you enjoy it. It's called _Lucky 13_**

**Here goes nothing...**

_**Prologue**_

_**Roxas**_

The tour bus smells like cheap beer and old leather. The lights are bright and garish; the florescence is a bluish white, probably because this hunk of junk has been in service since before I was born.

The windshield is covered in smears, and the rain isn't doing much to help with the cleanliness—it's not like anyone ever _washes _the damn thing...

"Come on, Roxas, live a little." Larxene says, slurring her words a little as she holds out a red plastic cup. The strong odor of beer wafts up from it.

I don't even need to ask her where she got it from.

We're all members of the Twilight Town Tempests—our high school's basketball team. At least, all the boys are, the only girls present are Axel's wannabe-girlfriend Larxene, and my little sister, Xion. We've just come off a huge win at the State Championships and everyone's a little full of themselves at the moment.

And they should be, we buried the Radiant Garden Rebels 110-59.

Xemnas, our center, always carries some kind of alcohol in his duffel bag for 'celebratory purposes' and he broke it out tonight in light of our win.

Everyone's had a few cups of the stuff, except for Axel, Xion, and myself.

Axel's a firm believer that a healthy body is the best way to excel at sports, and Xion knows that if Mom and Dad don't kill her for doing something that stupid, _I_ will.

And me?

"No." My answer is automatic. I just don't see the appeal of being so blitzed that I wake up on my bedroom floor the next morning and can't remember how I got there.

"Pussy." the fact that Larxene is so wasted that she can't speak properly takes the venom out of her jibe.

"Whatever." I don't see a need to waste my breath a insulting her.

"What about you, Xion? You're not a wimp like your big bro, are you?" Larxene snarks.

"Leave her alone." I growl. Larxene can say whatever she wants to me, but if she starts messing with Xion, the kid-gloves are off.

I honestly don't know what Axel sees in her.

I shake my head at Xion. _Don't even think about it, kiddo._ I can see it in her eyes that she wants to try it, wants to find out what all the fuss is about. And I can't blame her for it, I was curious at fifteen

too. But it's not gonna happen on my watch.

I stare Xion down out of the corner of my eye, trying to intimidate her with my _big brother_ status. _Come on, kid, be smart about this._

"I'll pass." Xion says after a long pause.

Larxene huffs, with just enough _oomph_ in the action to make it clear that she doesn't approve of Xion's decision. "Suit yourself."

"Leave the kid be, Larxene." Axel intones, disgust evident in his voice as he runs a hand through his unruly mane of red spikes. "She's not even supposed to be here."

And he's right: Xion had begged and pleaded, and whined her way into tagging along to our final game of the season; and the only reason she was allowed to come was because Mom and Dad felt guilty about not being able to make it since they had to work.

Larxene looks a little stung by Axel's rejection—even though there's no _way_ Axel would even _consider_ going out with her unless her attitude changes, which isn't likely.

I have no sympathy for the self-centered bitch as she turns up her nose and stalks down the aisle of the swaying vehicle.

I'm beginning to worry about Xemnas' driving—out of the four bottles of booze he'd brought, Xemnas had drank a whole bottle on his own.

"Thanks," I say to Axel, genuinely grateful for his intervention.

"No prob." Axel replies flippantly, sitting down next to Xion and slinging an arm around her and pulling her close to mess up he black pixie-cut hair the same way I do. He gestures to the rest of the bus—all of them are completely plastered by this point. "You're not missing anything—that stuff tastes like piss anyway. When you're old enough, I'll take you out for a taste of the _real_ stuff."

Xion giggles, her blue eyes sparkling. "Okay,"

I pull my phone out of my pocket and hold it out in front of me, leaning in and snapping a quick picture of the three of us—Xion will probably want one later, she loves to take pictures.

I almost drop my phone as the bus swerves again.

The bus is weaving back and forth over the road more than ever now, and considering the fact that there's a tree-covered slope to the left of us and concrete barrier to the right is making me more than a little nervous.

I nudge Axel and speak softly—no need to scare Xion. "Yo, should he even be driving? He had more booze than anyone. This thing is all over the damn road, man."

Axel nods once, sighing. "I'll go talk to him." He gets up and picks his way to the front, hanging onto the seats to keep his balance as the bus swerved.

Axel says something to Xemnas, which apparently he doesn't like—he jams his fist into Axel's nose and Axel staggers back to our seats at the back of the bus, and sits down, pressing his shirt against his nose to stem the bleeding.

"I take that as a no." his voice is nasally, and from the amount of blood gushing from his nose, I think it might be broken.

Axel nods.

"What a jerk," Xion comments, annoyed.

"What the hell were you tryin' 'a' pull Clarke? The Superior's a great driver!" Saïx says from the front seat, raising his cup to take another swig—he only succeeds in dumping most of it down the front of his jersey.

"Hell yeah!" Marluxia seconds, and I can't help but wondering how someone so obviously gay can have such a deep, masculine voice. The guy dyed his hair _pink_, and is obsessed with flowers. Need I say more?

"Damn straight." Zexion agrees sneering and trying to look cool behind his disgusting emo hair flip.

Epic fail.

"Huzzah!" Vexen says.

I think he's agreeing, but the guy's a wierdo. I mean, he dyed his hair _white._ And he's a complete nerd.

"Speak English you 'tard!" Xemnas roars—he's an angry drunk—turning to glare at Vexen.

And that's when it happens.

"Hang on!" Axel shouts in the same instant as Xemnas mutters:

"Oh, _shit_!"

And then the bus swerves violently to the left, smashing through the flimsy guardrail with a thunderous crash and a shriek of tortured metal.

The bus hangs in the air for a sickening, yawning eternity, just long enough for me to think: _Hang on to what?_ And then I grab Xion and hold onto her, positioning her so that my body will cushion her from the worst of the impact...I hope.

And then the eternity—or is it a second?—passes and the bus plummets to the ground.

Everyone's screaming and crying and then the world flips and my back slams into a wall or a seat or a window.

Something snaps inside me, maybe a rib, and it's suddenly a hell of a lot harder to breathe, but I don't let go of Xion. Something slams into my skull, and it all goes dark.

I wake up to agony.

Unimaginable.

Indescribable.

Hell on earth.

My back is on fire; I must've landed on a broken window or something, because I can feel something hard and jagged slicing my back to ribbons. My mouth is full of blood, and I spit it out so I can scream, but I don't have the breath for that—it hurts too much to inhale. I'm covered in something warm and sticky, from the smell, I know it's blood.

_Xion!_ I want to scream her name, so I can make sure she's okay, but I can't. I look around for her instead, trying to force my eyes to focus—all I can see is a blurry smear. My vision clears after a moment, and I immediately wish it hadn't, because I'll _never _be able to unsee _this_.

The inside of the bus is covered in blood, and most of the windows are shattered.

One of the players, Xaldin, has been impaled through the chest with a tree branch, blood dripping onto the walls from his wound.

Zexion, Marluxia, Lexaeus, Vexen, and Xigbar are all draped haphazardly over the bus, their bodies mangled beyond recognition. The only way I recognize them is from the numbers on their jerseys.

Xemnas and Luxord have both been ejected partially ejected from the vehicle, both of them hanging half out of the front windshield.

Larxene's twisted corpse is buried in the dashboard, which is smoking and sparking.

I still don't see Xion. Ot Axel.

And I can smell gasoline, which, coupled with the sparking of the dashboard, makes my situation that much more urgent.

I try to stand up, but there's something on top of me, pinning me down. That's when I remember Xion.

I look down frantically, praying that she's alright.

She's looking up at me, dazed.

"Hey, baby sister." I say softly. I have to keep it together for her. "You okay?" I try to smile, and then think better of it, knowing that my face must be a mess.

"It hurts, Roxas." Xion says weakly, and then she coughs, splattering my face with blood.

I'm fighting tears now. All I can think is_ She's only thirteen...Don't let her die like this._"I know it does, babe. I know. But we're gonna get help. Just you wait and see."

"Will you sing to me Roxas? Like you used to, when I was little?" Xion asks. She looks so young and scared and vulnerable, tears streaming down her cheeks and mixing with the blood on her face and I don't have the heart to refuse her. Not now.

"Okay. But you have to promise me that you'll stay awake though, alright."

Xion smiles weakly. "I promise."

I start singing a little, my voice ragged and scratchy. "You're giving me...Too many things, lately. You're all I need," The tears are falling in earnest now, but I don't care. I look up through the broken window above me, catching what might be my last glimpse of the moon and stars...

And then a spiky red mane appears in the broken window.

"Oh, man, Roxas, you _really _need to take some singing lessons, bro."Axel says, grinning.

I've never been happier to see anyone in my entire life. "Axel!"

"There'll be time to chat later man. We've gotta get you out of here, there's gasoline all over the place. Quick, pass me Xion. There's an ambulance up the hill." I don't even have time to wonder how Axel managed to get out of this alive, let alone completely unhurt.

"Do you think you can reach Axel, sweetheart?" I ask her, trying to be encouraging. The window is three feet away, and I don't know if I can stand up to pass her to him without hurting her more.

"I think so..."Xion very slowly turns to reach for Axel's outstretched hand.. She's screaming and crying, and swearing and panting with the effort, but she manages to catch his fingertips.

" Gotcha!" Axel exclaims as he adjusts his grip. He hoists her through the window—that's when the screaming _really_ starts. "Don't let go, Xion. I know it hurts, but you're almost done now. The hard part's over." Axel soothes.

Despite all her wailing, Xion manages to hang on long enough for Axel to pull her out.

"I did it, Roxas! I did it!" Xion's almost beaming now, at least until she coughs again, releasing another jet of blood from her mouth.

"Shit," Axel mutters. Normally, I'd be about to jump down his throat for swearing in front of Xion, but under the circumstances I can't really blame him. He gently, almost reverently sets Xion down and then reaches for me.

"Come on bro, now you." he says. I can tell he's trying not to panic, but it's not really working.

It hurts like a bitch to stand up, but I can do it. Unfortunately, that's about _all _I can do. My left arm is definitely broken, but my legs seem to be alright, except for a stabbing, shooting pain in my right ankle. I try take a deep breath against the pain—_huge_ mistake—and I remember belatedly that at least a few of my ribs are broken, and one of my lungs might be punctured.

"No, take Xion up to the ambulance first. She's worse off than I am. I'll be alright 'til you get back." I have to make sure that Xion's okay before I can worry about myself. That's just how I'm wired.

I can see in his eyes that Axel wants nothing more than to call 'bullshit' and come in after me, but he won't do it now. Not when Xion's life is on the line.

"I'll be right back," Axel vows, and then he scoops up Xion and is gone. Xion's making all sorts of weird gurgling noises, that make it sound like she can't quite breathe right, and then there's some more wet, ragged coughing that sounds more like a dog barking than anything else.

And then, Axel's footsteps fade, and I'm alone again.

The smell of gasoline is much stronger now, and I can smell smoke too. I glance over at the dashboard—Larxene's hair is beginning to smolder. _I have to get out of here!_

It takes me forever, but I manage to climb out of the broken window, slicing my hands open for the trouble. The drop to the ground is too much though, and my right ankle gives way, dumping me face-first into a puddle, one that I barely have enough strength left to roll myself out of. Which, honestly, might not have been that helpful, because the rain's still a torrential fucking downpour.

I don't think I'm going to get out of here.

Not alive anyway.

But, as long a Xion's alright, I can't bring myself to care too much.

Axel's back, faster than I expected and he doesn't waste any time in cradling me in his arms. I'm not even embarrassed about it, although there's no doubt in my mind that I will be later.

"Is Xion alright?"

Axel's face twists, and I know that whatever comes out of his mouth next is going to be a lie. "She's fine. The medics are taking real good care of her."

I want to believe it so badly...and then the sound of crackling flames reaches my ears and Axel takes off running up the slope.

But not fast enough.

The bus explodes as the gasoline vapors ignite; the sound is incredible. There's fire everywhere and it's hot, so unbearably fucking hot that I can feel my skin tighten and Axel's screaming and there's this awful smell, like burning flesh.

Axel staggers forward I look up at him.

He's on fire.

Literally.

His jersey is burning, and his hair and his skin, and this horrible brownish smoke is coming off of him, and that's all I have time to see before I'm soaked by a spray of cold water and go sprawling to the ground.

A strong pair of arms rolls me over and I'm being strapped to something hard and stiff.

"No, let me up! I have to see my sister!" Her name is Xion, she's thrirteen. Have you seen her."

Someone's shining a light into my eyes. It's bright, and it hurts, and I can't see anything past it.

"We have to tell him, Riku." There's a feminine voice this time, somewhere behind the light.

"Your sister's dead, kid. I'm sorry," This voice is deep and masculine. The light dims and I see a young man with silver hair and teal eyes staring at me with something like pity.

I want nothing more than to get up and throttle him for his lie. She can't be dead. She just _can't_.

But, my limbs have decided to rebel against my brain and are refusing to work properly, so all I can do is lay there, burning in my anger.

"He's crashing," The masculine voice is panicked.

And then my vision starts fading, but not before I catch a glimpse of the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.

She has platinum blonde hair, and the most gorgeous blue eye in the world. Her skin is pale, but not in a sickly way, she just doesn't have much pigment.

Maybe, in another universe, in a reality where there _isn't_ a ninety-percent chance of me dying tonight, I'd ask her out.

Yeah.

That'd be pretty cool.

I'll have to remember to thank her for saving my life if—_when—_I get out of here.

My world is fading fast, the color is bleeding away, leaving only her gorgeous blue eyes and blonde hair, and I'm overwhelmed by a desire to know her name.

"What's your name?" I ask.

And then she says something that starts with the letter 'N'. Maybe it's Natalie, or Natasha, or Naomi.

Everything goes black before I have a chance to tell her mine.

**So...thoughts anyone? Like it? Hate it?**

**See that little blue button down there that says 'Review'?**

**Yeah.**

**I thought so.**

**Click it and let me know what you think! I'm going to decide whether I should continue or not from the level of response...**

**Peace, out.**

**~Script**


	2. Six Months Later

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Thanks to everyone for their reviews, especially you _Lulu!_ Your support really means a lot, please keep it up!**

**Just a head's up, chapters from here on out will be rated 'M' because of Roxas' language, adult themes, and a possible lemon or two in the future...**

**That's enough babble from me.**

**Enjoy the next chapter!**

_**Chapter I: Six months later...**_

_**Roxas**_

__People say that time heals all wounds.

I say: _bullshit_.

Everyone who says that has obviously never had a single fucking thing go wrong in their lives, otherwise they would know: _It's just not that fucking simple._

It's been six months since the accident. I'm back on my feet again—good thing too, seeing as how I don't have a place to stay at the moment.

And that's fine by me.

When my parents got the news about the accident, they'd rushed to the hospital like any good parents would. I was in the room when the doctor told them that Xion didn't make it, and I could see it in their eyes—they wished it was me instead of her.

I can't really blame them for it; she was my favorite too, and sometimes I think things might've been better that way.

It was okay at first, we all had our time to grieve, to heal, to move forward in our lives. At least until the shit hit the fan...

The news didn't really help; they were constantly revisiting the accident—Twilight Town has never had a tragedy like that before. I must've been interviewed at least a dozen times, and even thought cops believed that I had no involvement in the accident other than being a passenger, the townspeople had other ideas. Everyone blamed me for the accident—I was the only survivor capable of talking about it, and making me the scapegoat for the deaths of their friends and family members was all too easy, human nature. The gaps in my memory from being knocked out made it a simple task to poke holes in my story, and before I could blink, I had become a social pariah, and outcast. Everywhere I looked, there was someone who hated my guts for no other reason than that I had lived and their friends had died.

I thought I could at least depend on my family for support... And then, I noticed that that look wasn't going away. Every time I looked at them, I could see the question in their eyes:

_Why her, and not you?_

And so, I packed up my shit, got in my car, and came here to Destiny Islands.

I didn't tell them where I was going, didn't leave a note.

I just got the fuck out of there as fast as humanly fucking possible because I didn't want to see that look in their eyes again, didn't want to see it there when they lied and told me they loved me and they didn't want me to go.

I suppose that's one good thing about being eighteen: I don't have to worry about the cops dragging me back to that hellhole as soon as I step out the door.

I grit my teeth against the memory and the rain drumming on the windshield and my fingers tighten on the steering wheel. I've been driving around for the past few hours looking for a place to stay.

I'd normally crash at Axel's, but he's been in a coma since the accident; the doctors don't know if he'll ever wake up. And, as if his parent's didn't have _enough_ shit to deal with, their insurance is only going to cover the cost of life support for another month and a half, and then they're gonna pull the plug.

I want to hope, want to tell myself that maybe he'll pull through before the insurance runs out, but I can't do that anymore. My ability to hope died with Xion.

The fact that I'm shit out of luck as far as cash flow is concerned isn't helping at all—I spent my last fifty on gas to get here, and I have just enough to crash at a cheap motel for a couple days. As far as discretionary funds go, I've got a twenty and some pocket change.

I pull into the parking lot of an old-fashioned diner; maybe getting something to eat will help me think straight—I didn't really plan this out.

I slouch inside, immediately put on edge by the florescent lighting—it's exactly the same as the lights on the bus.

I slide into a booth, not bothering to take off my hood. It cuts the glare, gives me at least a little privacy, and makes me feel a little less like I'm gonna flip my shit as soon as someone tries to talk to me.

"What can I get you sir?" someone asks.

I look up.

The waitress is stick-skinny with auburn hair, violet eyes and an easy smile.

Just for an instant, I'm back in the rain and the blood and the carnage of that awful night, and the waitress' face isn't hers. Instead, I'm staring at the most beautiful blue eyes I've ever seen, framed by platinum blonde hair. Her thin, supple lips are moving, but they don't sync up to the words in my memory.

And the face in my memory is considerably less annoyed than this one...

_You're not there now, Roxas. _I tell myself.

It takes a Herculean amount of effort to pull myself from the hallucination. I need to see a professional or some shit, because what's going on in my head is all kinds of fucked up.

"Do you need some time?" The waitress is pissed, but trying not to show it.

I shake my head numbly, trying to remember why I'm here in the first place. I haven't slept in two days and everything just kind of smears together after the first twenty-four hours without sleep.

"I'll have a coffee." Yeah, coffee will help me stay awake.

"Coming right up," The waitress is more cheerful now, and she scuttles away to get my drink.

The coffee mug clinks down on the table after a minute or an hour or a year—it doesn't really matter anyway. I take a sip after muttering a thank you, and manage to burn my tongue and throat in the process. The coffee tastes like shit, which immediately wakes me up, and the pain in my throat doesn't seem like it's going to go away any time soon.

I drain the mug, leave a generous tip on the table, and then it's back out into the cold and the rain and the misery—it's not like I have anywhere else to go.

I read somewhere that smoking helps to relieve stress, and I could definitely use some stress relief right now. I stop off at a Seven/Eleven for a pack of Marlboros and a Monster.

I've never smoked a day in my life, and it shows when I light the damn thing and take a drag—I'm coughing and spitting, and wheezing and choking, but anything's better than the constant pain of that night and knowing that I couldn't protect Xion enough to save her.

This will help me relax.

This will help me forget.

This, I reflect as I take another drag—the coughing isn't as bad this time—marks beginning of my new life.

I'm looking out of numero uno now, and I have a code:

_ Don't get attached._

_ Don't get wasted._

_ Don't be a prick._

It seems pretty straightforward...

Here's hoping I don't fuck it up.

_*****13*****_

Getting a tattoo hurts more than I'd ever imagined it would. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

I have the roman numeral thirteen on my right shoulder, and Xion's name on the inside of my left forearm.

"You're gonna need to keep that covered, kid." The artist says. His name is Cid, and he seems to be a pretty decent guy. "Don't get it wet or anything, might get infected."

I nod and turn for the door. "Thanks,"

"You ain't from around here, are you?" Cid asks; it seems like he already knows the answer.

"No, I'm not." I answer, hoping he'll drop the subject right the fuck now. I don't need a complete stranger probing into my past.

"'id you graduate yet?"

"No," I'm starting to get angry now. _Leave me the hell alone, old man._

"You might want to think about getting' y'self enrolled in school. Cops'll drag y' right on down t' th' station and book y' if you can't prove you've graduated."

"I'll keep that in mind." I say, a little too bitterly to be courteous. That's just fucking wonderful..._School_.

I know I need an education, but I'm not naïve enough to think that it's going to be a fresh start—there's _no way_ an accident like that doesn't at least make the news in the surrounding cities.

"See you around," Cid says as I head out the door.

"Later." I reply, and then it's back out into the rain and the cold, and a little bit less misery—the pain helps me forget too.

The stretch between the tattoo parlor and the sleazy motel is a hazy smear of nicotine and energy drinks, and it's a miracle I can see straight when I get there. It takes me much longer than I'd like to get a room, and by the time I get there, I barely have the presence of mind to set the alarm on my phone so I can get up in time to register for school in the morning.

Looking at the screen is like being stabbed.

My wallpaper is the same picture I took the night of the accident—the one of me, Axel, and Xion smiling and laughing at the drunk idiots on the bus.

I never thought that would be the last time I'd see her smile.

The wave of guilt slams into me like a sledgehammer, threatening to drag me to the depths of my own misery, to drown me like the broken, pathetic fucking shell of a person that I am. _Stop it. You're tougher than this._

I drag my eyes. back at the picture. At least she was happy for those last few seconds.

I force myself to smile at her image. _Here's looking at you kiddo._

I smoke half a cigarette, snuffing the butt out in the ashtray on the table before curling up on the sheets.

I try to rest, but not to sleep.

I can keep myself going on energy drinks, and maybe the cigarettes will help me relax.

But that won't stop the dreams.

**Like it? Hate it? Review and let me know!**

**Roxas' first day of school is coming up next, and we'll get to see Naminé's POV for the first time.**

**See you next chapter!**

**~Script**


	3. Flashbacks and Fantasies

**Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts? I don't own it.**

**Before I get started with the pre-chapter Author's Notes, I'd like to take a moment to thank _Lulu_, _Animeluv3_, and _Armyx_ for your reviews. Seriously guys, without your support, this story would be going nowhere fast. Thank you all so much!**

_**Lulu,**_** I'm sure you've already thought of this, but if you get an account—not sure if you already have one or not—it will be a lot easier for me to communicate with you, and you can get alerts that will let you know when the story is updated.**

**And now to business; as promised we'll see Naminé's POV for the first time in this chapter. I hope everyone enjoys it! As a side note, I know that basketball season starts in November and ends in April, but for the sake of the story, It starts in April, with games played through the summer, and ends in September, that way Roxas will be enrolling in school closer to the beginning of the school year.**

**On with the show!**

_**Chapter II: Flashbacks and Fantasies**_

_** Roxas**_

_It's raining._

_ The downpour soaks me as I lay here. I'm strapped to something stiff and hard. The nylon straps are crushing my already broken ribs, shoving bone splinters into my already punctured lung, slamming my brain with white-hot waves of agony._

_ The blonde girl is there too, peering down at me. She's trying to look sympathetic, but she seems more panicked than anything else. "Don't worry." She says quietly. "You'll be alright."_

_ I want to tell her it's not _me _that I'm worried about, but it hurts too much to talk, and my mouth is filling with blood again—even if it wasn't fucking killing me just to _breathe_, I still wouldn't be able to say anything._

_ I glance over, just in time to catch a glimpse of Xion's pale, unmoving body._

_ And then, impossibly, she turns her head. "Why didn't you save me?" She shouts, and then a white sheet is draped over her._

"No!" Blood splatters out of my mouth as I scream.

_ The silver-haired young man lets go of the sheet and comes over to me. "Your sister's dead, kid. I'm sorry," he says._

_ "You bastard!" I'm choking on blood and rain and rage, but somehow, I can still speak. "You're just going to let her die?"_

_ "There's nothing more we can do." the man replies sadly._

_ "The fuck there isn't!" I snap. If I wasn't strapped to this board, if my arms and legs would obey my brain's commands and fucking_ move_, I'd get up and kill him._

_ The man doesn't seem to hear me. "He's crashing!" _

_ "Go save her! Don't worry about me!" _

_ He's still ignoring me as he and the girl load me into the ambulance._

_ "What are you doing, Riku?" The blonde girl asks, livid._

_ "Get in the rig." Riku doesn't say her name._

_ "You're just gonna leave her there?" The girl continues._

_ "I've already lost one patient, and we're going to lose another if we don't get this kid to the hospital right now. Get. In. The. Rig."_

_ The girl glares at Riku for a long moment, and then gets in. _

_ The sirens wail._

_ "No!" I scream again, but the only response is the screeching of the sirens._

_*****13*****_

The screeching of the sirens in my dream bleeds into the incessant chirping of my alarm.

I wake up with a start, snatching my phone off the nightstand to shut it off. My fingers are digging into the sides of my head and I force myself to shake it off. _It was only a dream..._ I tell myself, but that doesn't make me feel any better.

I smoke another cigarette before showering in the closet-sized bathroom. The hot water helps to wash away some of the residual images from my dream, and it helps me relax a little more. I brush my teeth too—nobody likes cigarette-breath, and I'd like to at least make a decent impression on my first day of school, even if people likely to hate me right off the bat...

The reflection staring back at me from the mirror looks like shit—dark circles under the bloodshot eyes, cracked lips, hair a mess...

_Fuck it._ I don't have time to mess around with it now, especially since it's already eight-fifteen, and I have no fucking clue where the school is.

I throw on a pair of jeans along with a button-up shirt and my sneakers. I tuck the room key away in my wallet and head out to my car.

The black 1994 BMW 3 series is pretty much in mint-condition—I saved up forever to buy it, and put a pretty hefty chunk of change into fixing it. I slide in behind the wheel, glad that I at least had the forethought to bring along my school records and last year's report card. I peel out of the parking lot.

The signs make the school easy to find—it's up on a hill, overlooking the Destiny Islands metropolitan area.

Getting to the school is the easy part—getting into _class_ is another matter entirely. I have to show the principal, Mr. Ansem, my school records and report card and take a placement test—the results of which I could have told them in the first place: I'm educationally competent enough to enroll in Destiny Island High School as a senior.

I get my class schedule and a map of the school from Mr. Ansem, and I just barely have enough time to get to homeroom before the bell rings—the place is a fucking maze, and I'm cutting it close enough as it is; I manage to get there just in time.

I step into the room, immediately on edge because of the florescent lighting—the chiming of the bell sounds too similar to the shrill sirens of the ambulance, and I'm seriously about to flip shit.

_Get a grip!_ I force myself to take a deep breath, count to ten, and let it out slowly.

I wish I could light a cigarette, but that's not going to happen here.

"Uh, is this Miss Gainsborough's classroom?" I ask, feeling like an idiot for needing to do so.

The teacher—who I'm going to assume is Miss Gainsborough until proven otherwise—is fairly young, with brown hair and bright green eyes. She smiles.

"It is indeed. Welcome to the classroom, Roxas." She says. "Say hello class."

The classroom mutters something that sounds like a greeting in unison.

"Roxas, please have a seat next to Naminé. Naminé, could you please raise your hand so Roxas can find his seat?"

The name gives me pause, almost like I've heard it somewhere before.

A petite hand goes up in the back of the room.

I move through the aisle between the desks slowly, awkwardly, like an outsider. I take another step closer to the raised hand, and freeze.

_No fucking way..._

I'm a million miles away, stuck in a universe where a million years is the same as six months, soaked and bleeding and in excruciating pain.

I'm strapped to a board, while the freezing cold rain soaks me to the bone.

The most beautiful blue eyes I've ever seen snap to mine, and the girl brushes her platinum blonde hair out of her eyes so she can see me better.

She doesn't say. "We have to tell him, Riku."

She doesn't tell me her name in a garbled slur because my ears have been shell-shocked by an explosion and the worst news of my life.

She says: "Hello, Roxas."

_*****13*****_

_** Naminé**_

__It takes a special kind of person to save lives.

You have to be able to think on your feet.

You have to be able to make the hardest decisions in a split second.

You have to decide who lives and who dies.

I used to be able to do that, but I can't.

Not anymore.

Not since...

_The girl is coughing up blood._

_ Her black hair is cropped short in a pixie-cut, and her angelic face is contorted in pain and terror._

_ Her pulse is thin and erratic, and she's gasping for breath—she looks grateful when I fit the oxygen mask over her face._

_ "Thank...you." She whispers. She manages a partial smile—her teeth are caked with blood._

_ "You're welcome, sweetheart. Can you tell me your name?" I ask. Her pulse is slowing, and she coughs again, splattering the inside of the oxygen mask with blood._

_ "Xion." She says, weakly before being beset by another hacking fit. Blood dribbles from the corner of her mouth. "Am I going to die?" she asks. "I feel like I am."_

_ "That's a very pretty name. Don't you worry, Xion. You're gonna be just fine." I have to fight back tears now, have to make myself believe the words so I can comfort her._

_ "Hey..." Xion breathes, her blue eyes clouded. "I need you to do something for me."_

_ "Anything," I don't even have to think about the answer. Her pulse is even weaker and slower than before._

_ "My brother...his name is Roxas...Could you tell him I love him for me?" She whispered._

_ "Of, course I can. But, you'll have the chance to do that yourself, soon."_

_ Xion shakes her head sadly. "Please...tell him. He has blonde hair that's all spiky, and really pretty blue eyes...He really likes...sea-salt ice cream. It's his favorite food in the whole wide world." Her voice is whisper thin._

_ I can feel a tear trace it's way down my face. "He sounds really nice."_

_ "He's the best brother ever." Xion agrees, so quietly I can barely hear her. "He sings me to sleep sometimes. Will you sing to me?"_

_ I nod, crying in earnest now._

_ I don't care if it looks unprofessional—anyone who _doesn't_ cry at the unfairness of the fact that such a sweet little girl is dying has no soul._

_ "Okay." I dredge up a song from my memory. My mother used to sing it to me when I was little._

_ "_You're giving me...too many things, lately. You're all I need. You smiled at me, and said:

'Don't get me wrong, I love you. But does that mean I have to meet your father? When we are older you'll understand—what I meant when I said "no". I don't think life is quite that simple...When you walk away you don't hear me say:

'Please, oh baby, don't go.'

_ I can't finish—I'm crying too hard. Maybe I'm not cut out for this job..._

_ "You have a beautiful voice." Xion says. Her smile is blinding, despite the bloodstains on her teeth. She reaches over to feebly take my hand. "Don't forget...to tell Roxas...I love him."_

_ And then her hand slips from mine and her eyes flutter shut._

_ I can't feel a pulse._

_ I lose myself in CPR until an explosion, followed swiftly by a bloodcurdling scream makes me turn around._

_ The redheaded man that carried Xion up from the wreck is on fire. There's another person in his arms, and, despite the excruciating pain he must be in, he's staggering forward, still carrying them._

_ The tanker truck that's with us douses them with water._

_ And then it's back to triage mode: it's the most efficient way to categorize patients in a Mass Casualty Incident like this one._

_ It's also the most heartless._

_ Because in triage, when you don't respond to CPR after a minute, you're dead._

_ End of story._

_ Riku's already strapped the blonde to a backboard._

_ "No! Let me up, I have to see my sister! Her name is Xion, she's thirteen. Have you seen her?" He asks as I kneel down next to him. _

Oh, gods...This must be Roxas.

_ The boy's eyes are a ridiculously deep shade of blue, and his spiky blind hair is matted with rain and blood and dirt. _

_ I imagine that he's probably kind of cute when he's not all banged up._

_ Maybe, in another universe, one where I'm not questioning why on Earth I picked this job, one where I'm not looking at all the bodies and thinking: _That could be me_. Maybe in that universe, we might end up in a relationship._

_ I wouldn't mind that—especially not if he's anything like Xion said he is._

_ I look over at Riku, and he shakes his head._

_ "We have to tell him, Riku." I say._

_ "Your sister's dead, kid. I'm sorry."_

_ Roxas' blue eyes are blazing with rage and hatred, and there's no doubt in my mind that if he wasn't strapped down, he'd be beating the living daylights out of Riku right now. They're focused on a point behind me._

_ "What's your name?" he asks quietly._

_ "Naminé," I answer, and then his eyes flutter shut._

_*****13*****_

__I must be dreaming.

Or maybe I need stronger meds.

Roxas is standing in the doorway to the class room; his posture is completely rigid. He looks...bad.

_Really _bad.

His eyes are sunken and bloodshot, and the dark circles under his eyes make him look like he hasn't slept in days.

Even though I'm not a medic anymore, I can tell his breathing is much faster than it should be. He's shifting his weight from foot to foot, and his eyes are skipping around the room, maybe looking for an exit.

Roxas' eyes are still the same brilliant blue as the day I met him, but they're..._dulled_ somehow.

Even though he looks like he's been to hell and back, he's definitely handsome, his rakish good looks are complemented by his slick black button-up, dark jeans, and sneakers.

_I was right...he is kinda cute._

"Uh, is this Miss Gainsborough's classroom?" He asks quietly. His voice is like milk and honey, and it makes my heart beat just a little bit faster. It also sounds like he's expecting her to say 'no'.

The stark agony in his eyes is awful; he looks like he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Miss Gainsborough, bless her heart, smiles at him, and he stops fidgeting so much. "It is indeed. Welcome to the classroom, Roxas. Say hello class."

The class choruses a dull greeting the way only a high school classroom can.

"Roxas, please have a seat next to Naminé. Naminé, could you please raise your hand so Roxas can find his seat?"

I raise my hand slowly, not sure if I want to believe this is happening.

Roxas picks his way carefully though the aisle, freezing when he sees me.

His eyes widen, his jaw slackens—he looks like he's seeing a ghost, or having a breakdown or something.

That intuitive flash of _I've seen you before_, flickers in his eyes for an instant.

Hoping to calm him down, I say. "Hello, Roxas."

Roxas doesn't answer. He just shakes his head and comes to sit down next to me. He's obviously tense—his stare is practically boring holes in the whiteboard at the front of the room. The skin over his knuckles are bleached white, and his leg is shaking like the needle on a sewing machine.

I want to tell him that it's good to see him, that I'm glad he's okay.

More importantly, I want to give him Xion's message, but he won't even_ look_ at me, let alone talk to me.

His teeth are sawing into his lip, hard enough to draw blood, but I don't think he realizes it. _Oh, Roxas...what happened to you?_

The class period passes in complete silence.

As soon as the bell rings, Roxas is out the door before I can blink.

I sigh. _So much for reconnection._

**Thoughts? Anybody?**

**Riku's first appearance is next chapter! Don't worry, the RokuNami is coming guys, but as you can see, they both have some issues to work though...**

**See you next chapter,**

**~Script.**


	4. Manic Meetings

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Thanks to everyone for your incredible support thus far, I really appreciate it. You guys are awesome!**

**To _Formidable Rain: _You're right! That really doesn't make sense, does it? Thanks for pointing that logical error out.**

**In this chapter, we see Riku for the first time since the accident, along with Sora and Kairi.**

**Enjoy!**

_**Chapter III: Manic Meetings**_

_** Roxas**_

__I'm _this _close to having a fucking breakdown.

Naminé is sitting right next to me, and I can't look at her without having flashbacks of the accident. I sit on the edge of my chair, fists clenched, leg jackhammering like the needle on a sewing machine. _Lock that shit down, Roxas._ I command myself.

I can taste blood—I must've bitten my lip without realizing it.

I stare at the clock. It's only a ten-minute homeroom period, but it's the longest ten minutes of my entire fucking life.

As soon as the bell rings, I'm out the door, cigarette in my mouth before I'm even halfway down the hall. I go straight outside and light up, not giving a shit if it's against the rules to smoke on school property.

I can think straight once the nicotine hits my bloodstream—and I immediately realize that I've already violated one tenant of my new code: _Don't be a prick._

I know Naminé must think I'm a complete asshole, and I have half a mind to go apologize—but I can't face her yet. Every time I look at her, a I'm back in the rain and the cold and the blood and the agony, and once was more than enough for me.

I don't need to relive it.

I_ can't_ relive it.

Because if I do, I really _will_ go completely fucking insane. I'm halfway there already, and I really have no desire to find out what happens when you go all the way.

I burn through three more cigarettes before I feel calm enough to go back inside. I realize that it's time for lunch when I get back—I've had two hours of sleep in the past seventy-two hours, and time tends to blur in that kind of sleepless haze.

The cafeteria is way crowded and loud and brightly lit.

The line for food is long, but standing in it gives me time to study the hierarchy of this school.

Destiny Island High School is a lot like Twilight Town High. The cliques are clearly defined; preps, jocks, rockers, emo kids, drama geeks, nerds, artists, and then outcasts.

_Some things never change..._

"Excuse me?" someone asks.

I turn around, not in the mood for any kind of conversation—it's taking all my concentration not to have a fucking meltdown in the middle of the cafeteria.

"Are you new here? I've never seen you before..."

Shit.

The girl with the pretty red hair and violet eyes is looking at me expectantly and smiling. She seems like the type of person I would normally get along with—if I wasn't so fucked up.

Even though the last thing I want to do is shoot the shit with some random girl in the lunch line, especially since it's been seventy hours since I last slept, I have to remember the third tenant of my code: _Don't be a prick._

And so, trying to hide the fact that having bamboo splinters shoved under my fingernails would be preferable over talking to her, I respond with. "Yeah."

I hope she's not a social butterfly, because I really don't have the energy or the desire to talk to her. But, my shitty luck doesn't suddenly take a turn for the better.

"Cool. My name's Kairi, and this is my boyfriend, Sora." the redheaded chick says, gesturing to the boy next to her—the one with the crazy brown porcupine hairdo, the blue eyes, and the shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

"Nice to meet you." I say._ Leave me alone already dammit!_ "I'm Roxas."

Sora bumps fists with me—though I'd much rather use mine to wipe the fucking perma-grin off his face. _Nobody _is that happy, and part of me wants to ask 'what are you smoking and why aren't you sharing?'

"So, Roxas, did you just move here or something?" Sora asks, still smiling.

Seriously, this kid is like an advertisement for fucking Crest toothpaste. Enough with the damn smile already! You're happy. I get it. Move on.

"Yeah."

"Where do you live?" Sora wonders.

If it wasn't for my code, I'd have decked him by now. For some reason, my sleep-deprived brain can't manufacture a lie, and I end up telling the truth. Huge-ass mistake. Apparently sleep-deprivation makes me a dumbass. "I'm kinda crashing at a motel at the moment."

"Screw that man, why don't you come crash at my place? My parents have a spare room that we never use, it's yours if you want it." Sora offers.

_Fuck me_. As much as I want to tell him 'no', as much as I absolutely positive that I'll end up strangling him if he doesn't wipe the damn smile off his face, my brain apparently likes the idea of a nice bed to sleep in, and I find myself saying: "Alright. Thanks. I really appreciate it."

"No problem, bro. What are friends for? What's your phone number? I'll text you my address and phone number, so you can call if you get lost or something..." Sora says sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

_Is that what we are? Friends? I don't have those—not the real kind, anyway... _I refuse to give myself false hope and tell him my number and hand him my phone on autopilot; Kairi breaks into my sleepless haze with:

"And here's my number too, just in case Sora drives you nuts and you need someone to yell at him," Kairi grins as she programs her number into my phone.

"I feel so loved..." Sora whines.

Kairi hands me my phone and leans over to kiss Sora's cheek. "You know I love you, babe."

I turn away from the couple, glad that they're distracting each other so I can have some peace and quiet.

The lunch period passes in a few minutes, or an hour, or a year, and it doesn't really matter anyway—I know I ate something because my stomach is full, but I can't remember what it was. I glance at my schedule and head off to my next class.

_She's _there again.

As a matter of fact, Naminé is in every single one of my classes.

I'm starting to wonder if the universe in general actually hates me and has decided to fuck with me just for shits and giggles. Now it's literally a fucking impossibility for me to avoid her—and I can't change my schedule either, because then I'll have to explain why I want to change it in the first place.

Not going to happen.

I don't feel like dealing with that shit any more than is absolutely fucking necessary.

When school lets out, I get on the interstate back to Twilight Town—but only so I can visit Axel.

They say people in comas can hear you when you talk to them; they just can't respond.

At least he'll know I visited...

I know the hospital like the back of my hand—I've visited him every day since the accident, apart from the week I spent in the ICU—and I don't have any trouble finding Axel's room.

Axel's red hair is still a wild mane of spikes—what's left of it anyway. He just lays there unmoving on the bed, a tube stuck down his throat, hooked up to all kinds of really-fucking-expensive-looking machinery.

I sit down in my usual chair next to the bed. "Yo, Axel. How's it going." I've known him for pretty much my whole life, so my brain automatically supplies me with the answer he would give if he could talk.

_**The food here tastes like shit, my hair is completely fucking destroyed, and this tube is annoying as hell. Other than that, I'm fine. What's cool with you?**_

__"I saw her today, Axel. The girl from the accident. The one who saved me."

_**Was she hot?**_

__I can't help but snicker at that. "I guess. I was kind of too busy having a panic attack to really look at her."

_**Are you shitting me? She could be the hottest piece of ass in that school, and you were too busy pissing yourself to look at her? Way to be a pussy Roxas.**_

__"Not cool, bro."

_**Sorry. I was just fucking around. Having a catheter shoved up your dick does wonders for your mood...I know it's tough man, but we'll get through this—always have. **_

"I really didn't need that image, Axel." I mutter. "I don't know what to do...I'm being a complete dick to her, and I don't mean to be, I just can't handle being around her right now..." It feels good to get these things off my chest—Axel's pretty much the only person who would car about this shit anyway.

_**You should talk to her. You don't have to tell her your life story, but she'd probably appreciate a 'hello' every once in a while. I know the accident fucked with your mind, bro. But that doesn't mean you have to give up on life.**_

__I nod. He has a point. "Thanks man."

_**No prob bro. I'm gonna crash now, if that's alright. See you tomorrow.**_

__"See you tomorrow," I respond.

Visiting Axel has reminded me of another visit I need to pay. I leave the hospital and stop by the flower shop on the way to the cemetery to pick a a bouquet of white roses, white carnations and daisies, along with three sunflowers, because they were Xion's favoite.

Her gravestone stares back at me, her birthday and date of death mocking me for my failure.

My parents had spared no expense for her tombstone—it is a black marble square lined with gold leaf around the lettering.

I lay the flowers down in front of it, hoping that wherever she is, she'll like them. There's a lump in my throat and suddenly I'm choking out a sob, tears dripping off my chin, heart being slowly shredded as I look at the epitaph.:

**Xion Cambridge**

**March 21, 1997- April 7, 2010**

**Daughter—Sister—Friend**

**Rest in Peace, Beloved One **

I tear my eyes away from the stone—it makes me sick to my fucking core that she died so young, that I couldn't be there for her when she needed me the most.

"I'm sorry, Xion. I'm sorry that I wasn't strong enough to keep you safe. I hope you can forgive me." I whisper. And then I walk away, exhausted, and glad that I accepted Sora's invitation—a decent bed sounds absolutely wonderful right now.

When I get to his house, it's clear he wasn't planning on having a guest that night, because Kairi, a silver-haired boy whom I don't know, and Naminé are all there when I arrive.

My eyes lock onto Naminé's.

_Lightning and thunder snarl above my head._

_ The rain drenches me._

_ It hurts to breathe—no, it fucking _kills_ to breathe._

_ "Roxas! Help me!" Xion's panicked voice stabs me—I'm strapped down and can't move._

_ I'm sorry, Xion. I'm so, so, sorry._

Sora's enthusiastic greeting reaches my ears, pulling me out of my own personal hell. "Hey, Roxas! You made it."

The first thing I see when I come back to reality is Sora's enormous grin. "Yeah." I say, barely managing to restrain myself from cussing him out for being _entirely_ too fucking happy. I know it isn't his fault I'm so fucked up, and I manage to avoid flipping my shit at the guy who's letting me crash at his place for the night.

"You've pretty much met everyone here already—the guy with the old-man hair is my best friend, Riku." Sora says, gesturing to his companions, all of whom are in various states of lounging on his living room furniture.

Riku gives Sora the finger. "For the last time: my hair is _silver_. Old men have white hair." he snaps, but the glint in his eyes says he's kidding.

"I hope you don't mind, but they're staying here tonight too...I guess I got a little carried away. The guest room is upstairs. Make a left at the top of the stairs, and it'll be the first door on the right." Sora says reddening.

_Sanctuary!_ "No problem. Thanks for having me." I stay downstairs for as long as courtesy demands, and then it's upstairs to the safety of the guest room.

The guest room has a comfortable looking bed, and a balcony that I immediately make use of to light up a cigarette. I take a drag, letting the smoke fill my lungs, and I let it out slowly. The nicotine helps clear my head and I realize that as grateful as I am for Sora's hospitality, I can't stay here tonight.

_Sorry Axel. The whole talking-to-Naminé thing is going to have to wait._ I take my bags back downstairs.

"What's up?" Sora stops me by the door. He doesn't look offended or angry at my rejection, but he does look a little hurt.

Shit. "I'm really sorry about this, but I just realized that I never checked out of my hotel, and I already paid for tonight's stay. Could we possibly do this another time?" It's not a lie, and I feel a little better when Sora shrugs it off.

"I completely understand, man. Gotta scrimp and save as much as you can; especially with the economy going down the toilet." Sora's shit-eating grin is back with a vengeance, and it's all I can do not to wince at his perpetual good mood. "Maybe we can hang out some other time."

"Sure," I toss the words over my shoulder as I head back to my car. I burn through a few more cigarettes on the way back to the motel, and stop to pick up more before returning to my room. I smoke one more, and then crawl into bed.

I'm tired.

Tired beyond words.

Tired beyond thoughts.

Tired beyond reason.

Completely fucking exhausted.

I set my alarm before curling up on top of the covers, hoping, praying that maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to sleep.

I really should know better by now.

Hope is for losers.

**Like it? Hate it? Review, please. It really means a lot and it only takes a second...**

**Stay tuned! The RokuNami starts next chapter!**

**~Script**


	5. Catch TwentyTwo

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Thanks all the reviews guys! You guys are awesome!**

**As promised, the RokuNami kicks off in this chapter! Hope everyone enjoys it!**

**On with the show!**

_**Chapter IV: Catch Twenty-Two**_

_** Roxas**_

__My phone is ringing—the alarm has no sympathy for the fact that I've only gotten three hours of sleep

I turn the damn thing off, and then get up to retrieve my lighter from the nightstand.

I need a fucking cigarette.

I light up and take a few drags—that helps to take the edge off the images burned into my eyes from last night. I light up another and burn through that one faster than the fucking Roadrunner on a caffiene buzz.

I look at the clock.

_Shit._ It's eight-thirty, and I still have to shower and get dressed.

I somehow manage to accomplish that and be on my way to school by eight forty-five, but I'll be cutting it way too fucking close for comfort—the last thing I need is to have everyone staring me down when I get to class late.

I whip into the parking lot at eight fifty-five—five minutes to spare before classes start. I pause just long enough to make sure the car is locked—because that's just what I fucking need; someone to break into my ride and steal shit.

I'm so absorbed in trying to get to class on time, that I almost don't notice the argument happening around the corner from the entrance.

Almost.

"Riku, stop!" I'd know Naminé's voice anywhere, and she sounds panicked.

"Aw, come on Naminé! After everything I've done for you, don't you figure you owe me?" Riku sounds angry.

As much as I really don't need to start tripping shit and end up in flashback city; I'll be damned if I'm about to stand by and let some guy take advantage of a girl when she clearly doesn't want anything to do with him.

I round the corner, mouth twisted in a sneer. _No means no, bitch._

Riku has Naminé pressed up against the wall like he's about to kiss her; her head is trapped between his arms. He's got her hands pinned to the wall above her head, and he's too close to her for her to knee him in the balls. His left hand is resting on her breast.

"_Stop!_" Naminé protests, struggling as Riku leans closer.

_Oh, fuck no you don't!_

"Is there a problem here?" I snap. The voice that comes from me doesn't sound like mine at all. It's colder.

Angrier.

Deadlier.

Riku just smirks. "There won't be if you leave us alone. We're just talking."

This guy clearly has no idea who he's dealing with, because he still hasn't moved his hand away from Naminé's chest, and if it doesn't move in the next three seconds, I'm cutting it the fuck off.

That shit's not okay.

Naminé's eyes are pleading with me. _Help!_

"I don't know what the fuck you're up to, but it sure as shit isn't_ talking._ Let her go." I'm not in the mood to dick around with Riku.

Riku puts his hands up and takes a few steps backward.

"Keep walking bitch." I snarl.

Riku shoots me the finger and stalks off.

I look over at Naminé, checking to see if she's alright, but she's not against the wall anymore, and suddenly, arms are wrapping around me.

"Thank you," Naminé says, and suddenly it's raining.

_Aw, shit._

_*****13*****_

_ There are bodies everywhere._

_ Blood coats the inside of the bus; it's on the walls, the ceiling, the floor, the seats, everything. _

_ My mouth is filled with blood, and I spit it out so I can breathe—and the agony that causes is un fucking bearable. I want to scream, but that would require taking a deep breath—that's not going to happen—so I lock that shit down._

_ I look down at myself; Xion is lying on top of me, arms wrapped tightly around my midsection._

_ She's crying, and her blue eyes are glazed over. "It hurts, Roxas." she says weakly. And then she coughs, splattering my face with blood._

_ "I know it does, babe. I know. But we're gonna get help, just you wait and see." I try to be comforting—Xion doesn't need to know exactly how fucked up our situation is—they say that thinking positive is the best way to survive something like this._

_ I can tell by the look in Xion's eyes that she knows I'm bullshitting her._

_ "Will you sing to me, Roxas? Like you used to, when I was little?" Xion asks. She looks so young and scared and vulnerable, tears streaming down her cheeks and mixing with the blood on her face and I don't have the heart to refuse her. Not now._

_ "Okay, but you have to promise me you'll stay awake though, alright?" I reply. It's incredibly fucking selfish of me to ask that of her, but I'm terrified that if she closes her eyes, she'll never open them again._

_ "I promise." Xion replies solemnly._

_ And then the bus explodes. _

_ This is all wrong; this isn't how it happened. _

_ And then I'm burning, my skin bubbling and melting, my hair blazing._

_ Xion's screaming and shouting, but I can barely fucking hear it through sound of the explosion._

_ And then it hits me._

_ I must be dreaming-'cause shit didn't go down like this._

_ And if you can't get hurt in a dream, maybe I have to hurt myself to wake up._

_ Right?_

_*****13*****_

_** Naminé**_

Riku pushes me up against the wall, pinning my hands up above my head, and moving to stand closer so I can't kick him where the sun doesn't shine.

I'm so tired of playing this game with him.

While I'll admit that I'm grateful to him for helping me out in the first couple of weeks after the accident—he gave me some Valium so I could sleep at night, just until I could go to the doctor and get medicine for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.

However, Riku thinks that I owe him now, and he wants me to repay him by going out with him.

I've told him several times, very firmly, and in no uncertain terms, that I'm not interested in him that way. He's a great friend—or at least he was until all _this_ started—but I don't have romantic feelings for him at all. Not even a little bit.

Dating him would kind of be like dating my older brother, if I had one.

Gross.

Unfortunately, Riku refuses to take 'no' for an answer.

"So, Naminé," He says, turning on the charm as he leans closer. "Will you go out with me?"

"No. We've been over this before, Riku." I tell him, hoping he'll drop it.

"Don't be like that, sweet-cheeks. You know you want me..." Riku's voice is so drenched with seduction that if I was any other girl, I'd need to change my panties just from the sound of it. He puts his hands on the wall on either side of my head, trapping me.

But I'm not, so I don't. "Riku, stop."

Riku looks hurt. "Aw, come on Naminé! After everything I've done for you, don't you figure you owe me?" he leans closer, lips slightly parted, and all I can think of is how much I do _not_ want this to happen. And then his hand trails down onto my breast.

I feel so incredibly violated...

"_Stop!_"I try to sound firm; everyone has gone inside to go to class, so if Riku wants to make a move, there isn't exactly a whole crowd of people to witness it. I _really_ wish I could move, but it's a lost cause., he's too strong for my struggling to do anything more than tire me out.

Just as I'm about to resign myself to the most disgustingly awkward, completely traumatic experience in my life, someone comes to my rescue.

"Is there a problem here?" Roxas' voice is nowhere near the milk-and-honey tones he gave the teacher yesterday; it's more raw, angrier.

Riku has the nerve to respond with. "There won't be if you leave us alone. We're just talking." and that just makes me want to kick him more.

My eyes lock with Roxas' silently begging him not to believe Riku.

Roxas' voice is cold and firm, and there's no doubt in my mind that he'll beat the living daylights out of Riku if he doesn't back off. "I don't know what the fuck you're up to, but it sure as shit isn't _talking_. Let her go."

Riku puts his hands up in surrender and backs away from me.

The expression on Roxas' face says that he doesn't trust Riku as far as he can throw him, and his mouth backs it up with: "Keep walking bitch."

Riku gives Roxas the finger and walks away.

Overwhelmed with gratitude, I lunge forward to hug him.

My arms wrap around him; as soon as the words "Thank you," have left my lips he's a million miles away.

"Roxas? Roxas are you okay?" I ask, shaking him a little.

He doesn't answer, and I'm not sure what to do—I certainly can't leave him here like this...

Roxas starts singing quietly to himself, his brilliant blue eyes glazed over. He twitches, and brings his car keys up to his arm.

I stare in disbelief as he carves a jagged red line into the flesh.

"_Roxas_! Stop that, you're hurting yourself!" I say, grabbing his arm and trying to stop him from cutting himself again. He's too strong for me to hold him back though, and out of desperation, I slap the keys from his hand.

Roxas jerks, like he's just stuck a fork into a light socket, and his eyes are clear again.

"What was that?" I wonder, still staring in shock at the blood running down his arm. How anyone could willingly do that to themselves is beyond me...

"Shit." Roxas mutters quietly, almost too quietly for me to hear, as he stares at his bleeding arm. And then in a louder voice he says. "It's nothing. I'm fine, don't worry about it." he bends down to pick up his car keys.

I just stare at him. _Who does he think he's fooling? _I snatch the keys out from under his hand; if he hurt himself with them once, he might do it again, and I refuse to let that happen on my watch. "My foot. What's going on, Roxas? One minute you're hugging me, and the next you're carving into your arm with your keys. That's not nothing."

Roxas' face is grim and hard. "I can't talk about that."

"Oh, yes you can!" I reply. I stretch my hand out over the storm drain grate next to the wall. One way or another, I'm going to get to the bottom of this.

"Give me the fucking keys, Naminé." Roxas says sharply, but there's no fire in his eyes. He looks awful. The circles under his eyes are darker than when I first saw him, his eyes are bloodshot, and his voice is infinitely tired.

I want nothing more than to hug him again and refuse to let go until he talks, because whatever's doing this to him is taking decades off his life span. But I don't do that. Instead, I let go of his keys, catching them just before they disappear into the storm drain.

"I'm not giving them back until you talk."

Roxas' shoulders slump. "You want to know so badly, fine. I was in the accident—you know the one that was all over the news because only two out of fifteen people lived through it. The school bus crash? I'm the kid everyone thinks killed every single one of those people because I'm the only one who can talk about it."

He turns away, fists clenched, trembling. He extends one of his hands. "Can I at least have my fucking keys back before you go and tell the whole damn school that the infamous Roxas Cambridge is a student here?"

_Oh, Roxas..._ I can't imagine what life must be like for him—to constantly have people judging him simply for being alive. Maybe I can ease some of his burden though...

"I know you were there Roxas; I'm the one who helped rescue you, remember?" The words are just spilling out of me now, I want to make sure that Roxas knows that even if the other students turn against him, I won't.

Because I lived it too.

I had people coming to my house for days, had hate mail, had a rock thrown through my bedroom window, all because people were mad that I couldn't save their children.

I have no idea how they managed to find out where I lived, or who was on duty that night, but they did.

And people can do and say some really awful things when they're upset.

"I know what it's like, Roxas. I know what it's like to have people look at you like you're some kind of monster because they've forgotten that it's a miracle that _anyone_ lived through the accident. I know how it feels to have people hate you just for being alive, because their friends, or their family members are dead and you aren't."

Roxas turns back around slowly. He didn't make a move to take his keys.

"What I'm trying to say is this: maybe we can help each other. If you ever need to talk about something from that night, I'll be more than happy to listen." The words sound woefully inadequate, and I'm half-expecting him to just take his keys and leave, but he doesn't.

"Thanks." Roxas says quietly. "And you can talk to me too, if you need to." He leans back against the wall and lights a cigarette.

The smell of the smoke isn't nearly as repulsive as it should be.

"What did Riku want with you?" Roxas wonders, taking a long drag and blowing the smoke out—away from me, thankfully.

"He helped me deal with the stress of the accident, and now he thinks I owe him. He wants to go out with me...I've already told him that I'm not interested, but he's not getting the message."

Roxas' brilliant blue eyes blaze and he's on his feet in an instant. "I'll make sure he does; fucker's got no right to touch you like that."

There's no doubt in my mind that if Roxas' goes after Riku, Riku'll end up dead. Just the thought of him and the way he touched me makes my blood run cold, and my breath catches in my throat. I'm breathing harder and faster than I should be, and my heart is trying to batter it's way out of my chest.

I can't be here right now, or I'm going to have a breakdown.

"Roxas?"

"What?" Roxas snaps, but his expression softens when he sees me. "What's wrong?"

"Can we go somewhere? Please? I can't go in there. Not with him around."

Roxas tosses his cigarette butt into the storm drain. "Okay. Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere but here," I answer truthfully.

Roxas' nods. "I know just the place."

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"It's a surprise," Roxas smiles, his white teeth flashing in the sunlight.

I can't help but smile back—his smile is so beautiful, and it kills me because he looks like he's almost forgotten how to smile when he realizes what's happening. "Let's go," I say and reach for his hand.

He doesn't pull away.

**Good? Bad? Enjoying the RokuNami? Review and let me know!**

**See you next chapter!**

**~Script**


	6. Clock Tower Confessions

**Disclaimer: Nope, I still don't own Kingdom Hearts.**

**Thank you all for all of your support so far, it really means a lot! **

**On with the show!**

_**Chapter V: Clock Tower Confessions**_

_** Roxas**_

__I'm trying to be smooth; trying to keep my shit together and hide the fact that I'm pretty much about to commit emotional fucking suicide.

I'm headed into Twilight Town, more out of reflex than anything else. The only place I can think to take Naminé is the huge clock tower in the town square. It's—or it was until I was fucking ostracized by my own community—one of my favorite places to think.

It was also one of Xion's favorite places to go, but I can't think about that now—just the thought of her makes me feel like I'm being stabbed with a hot knife. I can already feel the beginnings of a flashback coming on and I can't afford that now, especially not while I'm driving. I take a hand off the steering wheel, hoping a smoke will help take the edge off.

The third tenant of my code floats back to me:_ Don't be a prick._

And now that I think about it, it _would _be pretty prickish to smoke with Naminé in the car, especially since she doesn't smoke.

_Damn it._

I really need a fucking cigarette.

"Hey," Naminé's voice breaks into my inner monologue, sweet and lilting. "You okay? You're spacing on me again."

"I'm fine." I don't really want to talk, but I'm glad to have something to distract me from the emotional shitstorm going on inside me.

"You look tired." Naminé says, and there's something like pity in her voice.

Translation: _You look like shit. What's wrong with you?_

I chuckle, partially because it's either that or a tired grunt, which isn't very fucking polite, and partially because even though she's right, I can't imagine her saying it quite like _that_.

Naminé smiles a little, the kind of smile that says_ I can't decide whether you're insane, or just trying to be friendly._

"I am," I answer, trying to be polite, but hoping she'll fucking drop it, because I really don't need to be thinking about that shit right now.

Naminé's smile widens and if I didn't know any better, I'd swear it was starting to shade toward flirtatious. "So..." She puts a finger to her chin. "Are you going to tell me where we're going?"

I feel my lips curling upward—it's been fucking so long since I've smiled...and now I've done it twice in one day.

What is this girl doing to me?

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise, now would it?"

Naminé giggles then, and my heart feels a little less like its being slowly ripped to fucking shreds and burned, and a little more like it might not be beyond repair.

"Fair enough."

The rest of the ride passes in a comfortable silence.

We walk into the lobby of the clock tower—I know the place like the back of my hand—and from there I lead Naminé through the service access corridor and we take the maintenance elevator up to the roof.

"That sign said 'employees only'." Naminé reflects. "Are you sure it's okay for us to do this?" she looks nervous, and I get the impression that she's a 'good girl' and has probably never done anything like this in her life.

I shrug. "It's only against the rules if we get caught."

Naminé pales—and that's saying something, since she's pale as a fucking vampire to begin with. "I don't want to get in trouble, Roxas."

"Relax," I say, patting her shoulder because it looks like she's about to pass out. "I cleared it with the manager wh-" It still hurts too much to tell her exactly when it happened. "A while ago. He said that as long as we don't leave trash or anything up there and we don't throw things off the roof, he doesn't mind." I tell her as we step out of the elevator onto the roof."

"We?" Naminé wonders, confused.

_Shit_. I _really_ need to watch my fucking pronoun usage...because now I _have_ to tell her.

I look out over the city, my home for the last seventeen years and six months, and take a deep breath. I fumble around in my pocket for my pack of smokes and lighter, and I light up.

I take a long drag.

In.

Out.

"My sister, Xion and I used to come up here whenever she was upset or sad and we'd eat ice cream together. She loved the view, and the ice cream helped to cheer her up." My chest is on fire, my heart feels like it's being slowly put through a meat grinder. I stomp on the cigarette butt to put it out and look over the edge.

_That's a long way down..._

It would be so easy...

An end to this fucking miserable existence.

Quick and painless.

That's more than I can say for Xion.

I take another step toward the edge without realizing it, but Naminé's soft voice pulls me back.

"It is beautiful." Naminé agrees. "I'll have to sketch it sometime...I'd do it now, but all my art stuff is in my locker."

"Maybe we can come back sometime or something..." The words pass my lips before I can stop them. Even though I didn't mean to say them, being up here makes me realize that even though I couldn't protect Xion, maybe I can protect Naminé.

Naminé smiles. "I'd like that."

"Okay." That settles it. I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure Naminé is safe and happy.

Even if it kills me.

_*****13*****_

_** Naminé**_

__We stay in Twilight Town for most of the day—Roxas takes me to get ice cream from his favorite shop.

I've never had the flavor before, but it's delicious. "What is this?"

"It's sea-salt ice cream. It's my favorite." There's something in his eyes, like he's not telling me everything, but I don't press him for information.

"It's really good." I tell him, and then he looks at his phone. "Shit. It's late. We should go."

We stay just long enough to finish our ice cream, and then we're back on the road to Destiny Islands.

The journey passes much quicker than it should—I'm in and out of consciousness.

Roxas shakes my shoulder gently. "We're back in town...where do you live?"

I want to go back to the school to get my car, but I'm exhausted and in no shape to drive—I'll get it in the morning. I tell him my address and then I'm out again.

"Naminé, we're here," Roxas wakes me again and I can see that he's parked outside my house.

"Thanks for today." I tell him. It doesn't seem like enough, considering what he did for me today. I don't even want to think about what would have happened if Roxas hadn't showed up...

"No problem." he says. "You know you can call me if you ever need me anything, right." Roxas is rubbing the back of his head like he's nervous.

I smile, trying to tell him that he doesn't have to be nervous, that I'm not judging him based on his past like so many other people have done. "Okay. Can I have your number?"

Roxas smiles and hands me his phone. "I seem to have lost it...can I have yours instead?"

I roll my eyes. "That was so cheesy." I punch my number into his phone and then he recites his for me. "Drive safe okay? I'll see you at school tomorrow."

Roxas nods. "See you."

I hear the engine rev when I step through the front door.

Unfortunately, that's not the only thing that's revving.

Mom and Dad are sitting in the kitchen, staring at me.

They don't look happy.

Dad stares me down over the rim of his glasses and I feel like I'm five years old again and he's just caught me trying to get into the cookie jar before dinner. "The school called. Principal Ansem said he saw you leaving the school grounds this morning with the transfer student from Twilight Town...What's his name..."

"Roxas." Mom supplies.

I tense. I can tell by the look on Dad's face that he's about to launch into another one of his triades. "Dad, you don't understand—"

"You're forbidden from seeing or speaking to him again. Is that clear?" Yep. Dad's mad.

"Dad, just let me explain—"

"Go ahead dear, explain why it's okay that you threw away your perfect attendance record for some boy. Do you have any idea how much colleges look at your attendance records?"

My jaw stiffens. I can't tell him about what happened now—even if the very thought of what happened to me didn't make me want to lock myself in my room and hide from the world, Dad will think I'm making it up anyway.

"Are. We. Clear?" Dad repeats in his no-nonsense voice.

"Yes." It takes every ounce of self-control I can muster not to yell back at him—I've never been this angry with him before in my life. I cast a pleading look at Mom, trying to say _back me up here_, but she just shakes her head.

"Goodnight." I stomp up the stairs and slam the door to my room, not caring if it makes me seem childish.

This is completely unfair. The one person I feel like I can talk to about the accident—don't get me wrong, Sora and Kairi are great friends, but they'll make a big deal over it and want to hover over me like I'm made of glass and I really don't need that—is the one person I'm forbidden from talking to.

But, I know just how to make my parents see reason.

I'm on all sorts of medicine for PTSD; I get these awful nightmares and stuff when I don't take it. Since my parents hate to see me suffer, I just won't take it until they let me see him again. It's a cruel thing to do really—but so is cutting me off from the one person I can talk to about all this.

_Let the games begin._

I'm surprised at myself, I've never had a rebellious bone in my body before today. The old me definitely not be taking out my phone and calling Roxas right now. The phone rings for a few moments, and just as I start to worry that he won't pick up, he answers the phone.

"Naminé, what's up?" Roxas wonders.

My breath catches in my throat and suddenly I'm crying—which is really strange considering the fact that I literally just met Roxas yesterday, so I really have no reason to be this upset about everything...Except for the fact that he's pretty much the only person I can talk to about the accident; Mom and Dad will just throw money at a therapist and tell them to make me normal, but it doesn't work like that.

Apparently I'm taking too long to answer, because Roxas jumps in again.

"Hey," he says gently, and I wonder briefly if this is how he talked to Xion when she was upset. "Are you okay?"

"No!" I say, a little to harshly, venting some of my frustration at my parents to him. "Sorry for yelling," I lower my voice, no need to have my parents walk in and wonder who I'm talking to. "My parents are angry at me for getting home so late, and they said I'm not allowed to see or talk to you again. It's completely unfair!"

"Shit. I'm sorry...I didn't mean to get you in trouble...That's pretty fucked up though."

"It's not your fault Roxas," I tell him. I don't want him blaming himself for this. "I have a phone too, I could have looked at the time just as easily as you did."

"I know..." Roxas answers. "So, judging by the fact that you're talking to me, I'm guessing you don't agree with your parent's decision?"

"Not at all." It's the honest truth, I've never disagreed with them more in my entire life.

Roxas chuckles. "I never pegged you for the rebellious type, Naminé."

His deep chuckle makes me smile, and I briefly debate telling him that I'm not going to take my medicine until my parents lift their completely-unfair ban and let me talk to him again, but I decide not to—I don't want him to think I'm crazy.

Maybe I am a little bit crazy though—it's only been a few minutes since he left, and even though I'm on the phone with him, I find myself missing him already.

It's pathetic really.

"We'll still see each other at school," Roxas points out.

I nod, and then feel stupid because I'm on the phone, and he can't _see_ me nodding. I can feel the blush heating my face. "Yeah" I yawn, suddenly tired by the day's events.

"I should let you go...I'll see you in the morning, alright?"

I'm nodding again. "See you tomorrow...hey can you give me a ride to school?"

"Sure." Roxas answers. "I'll park around the corner from your house so your parents don't see me."

"Thanks. Goodnight, Roxas."

"Night." Roxas answers.

I put the phone on the nightstand beside my bed and pull the covers over me.

It's going to be a long night.

**Like it? Hate it? Worried about Naminé? Review and let me know!**

**See you all next chapter!**

**~Script**


	7. SuperCaffienated Seduction

**Disclaimer: I still don't own Kingdom Hearts. Or the Red Bull company.**

**Not much to say as far as preamble goes. **

**Enjoy the next chapter!**

_**Chapter VI: Covert Collaboration and Super-Caffeinated Seduction **_

_** Roxas**_

Same shit different day.

Story of my life.

I smoke a cigarette to take the edge of the nightmares and then It's into the shower and off to school.

I manage to get inside without running into Riku—which would be incredibly fucking unfortunate for him—but I do run into Naminé on the way to my locker.

Literally.

As in, she pulls a fucking _yard sale—_you know, the thing where you trip and drop all your shit all over the floor.

Her books and binder end up in a heap on the floor, and I feel like a dick for not paying enough attention to see her coming.

"Shit!" I kneel down to help her pick her things up. "I'm sorry."

"Oh." Naminé says very slowly. "Sorry, Roxas. I didn't see you there." Her voice is all wrong and when I look up to hand her her history book, I realize that she looks like death warmed over.

Her eyes have dark circles under them, she's even paler than usual, and she's giving me this incredibly fucking creepy blank stare.

"You okay?" I wonder, because her blank looking-right-into-my-soul stare is beginning to freak me out a little.

"'Mmm." Naminé mumbles, blinking very slowly.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" I continue—I'm not sure what I'm going to do if she passes out; I don't know shit about medical emergency.

Naminé shakes her head. "Nightmares."

"I thought you said you were on meds..." I say quietly, so I don't embarrass her.

"Didn't take them." she says.

"Why the hell not?" I demand.

"Mom 'n' Dad said I couldn't see or talk to you 'cause I miss'd school yesterday. So, I'm not taking them until they deem you a worthy associate." Naminé explained. She swayed on her feet and leaned into me.

I wasn't sure whether to be offended by her parents' view of me—not that I wasn't used to that shit by now—or flattered that Naminé was willing to go to such lengths to prove her parents wrong.

Then I realize that Naminé's hugging me—though I'm not sure whether she's trying to convey affection or if she's trying to hold herself up because she's too fucking exhausted to stand.

"So sleepy," She murmurs, clutching me a little tighter.

The lilting, sleep coated tone of her voice is absolutely fucking adorable, and my pants are suddenly much tighter than when I put them on this morning.

I completely understand where she's coming from—sleep deprivation is no fucking joke; that shit can seriously kill you.

Which is why I have an emergency stash of Red Bull in my car.

I glance over at Naminé—caffeine will keep you going for a little while, but the crash when it wears off leaves you twice as tired as when you first drank it, and considering that Naminé _already_ looks like she's about to fucking collapse, it may not be the best of ideas, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

"Come with me." I say.

The trip to the car is more of an incredibly slow shuffle than a walk and I have to catch Naminé a few times when she trips over her own feet, and she sags against the car as I rummage through the car—I really need to clean my shit.

After a few minutes of searching I come up from the disaster zone that is my trunk—more than a little embarrassed that I haven't cleaned that shit in for-fucking-ever—with a blue-and-silver can of liquid crack.

Naminé does another one of those incredible slow blinks—the kind that would make me think she was tripping on Heroin if I didn't know she was such a 'good girl' that she made the straightedge kids look like hustlers and theives. "Wha's that?" She slurred.

I crack the can open—at this point in time I'm beginning to seriously doubt her ability to do it herself. "Here. Drink this."

Naminé reaches for the can with a shaking hand and takes it from me. "But, what is it?"

"Just drink it." I answer. As adorable as she is in her sleep-deprived state, her perpetual inquisitiveness coupled with my own lack of sleep is really start to fuck with my nerves.

I grab another can from the trunk and knock it back, stepping away from Naminé when I'm finished to light up a smoke.

Naminé takes the can in both of her small hands, like a little kid who's still learning how to drink—and the memory of Xion doing the same thing stabs me when she does it—and takes a small sip.

"So," I begin, blowing the smoke out with the wind and away from Naminé. "What do you think."

Naminé licks her lips sleepily and my pants get tight again.

_Damn..._

"This is really good." Naminé says, and knocks back the rest of the can.

Her eyes are already a little brighter, and she's starting to look a little less like the walking dead, and a little more like Naminé.

Her smile is blinding.

However, upon further examination, I notice that her smile isn't the_ 'thanks-a-ton-I-really-needed-a-pick-me-up' _smile.

It's a _'holy-shit-I'm-so-blitzed-on-caffiene-that-I-can't-help-but-smile'_ smile.

_That was quick..._

I realize, a little too late, that because Naminé's probably a little more sensitive to caffeine than most people, because of being smaller than average...

And then the giggling starts.

I barely have enough time to lock the car before Naminé's dragging me back toward the school faster than a jackrabbit on crystal meth.

Fuck. Me.

I've created a monster.

_*****13*****_

__Naminé is considerably calmer by lunch time, but the fidgeting hasn't stopped yet.

Right now, she's rocking back and forth from one foot to the other—I came with her so she could eat her lunch outside. She couldn't stand being cooped up inside, and she didn't want to be alone outside; especially not with Riku running around.

Fucker's still gonna lose his hand if he comes near her.

"Are you doing anything tomorrow, Roxas?" Naminé wonders, plopping down beside me.

"No..." I have no fucking idea where she's going with this.

"Do you think..." Naminé begins, biting her lip and turning away. "Do you think maybe we can go back to Twilight Town?"

Where the hell did that come from? "We can...but what about your parents?" I'd really prefer to avoid making the situation worse—her parents have made it clear that they are not in my fan-club, which is pretty fucking nonexistent to begin with, and I don't want to make things worse for her.

"I don't care what they think, Roxas." Naminé says firmly, her blue eyes blazing with a fire unlike anything I've ever seen before. "You are my friend. I was there the night of the accident, I _know_ you didn't do anything. I don't care about my attendance record, or any of that. I _want_ to go to Twilight Town with you so I can sketch the city. If my parents have a problem with that, that's on them." Naminé's jaw is set firmly and I know that nothing I can say will change her mind.

"Only if you're sure." I tell her, because that's the best I can do. There's no doubt in my mind that this situation will end up fucked six ways from Sunday quicker than I can say _fuck me sideways_, but the consequences don't matter.

As long as Naminé is happy, it's worth it.

"I'm sure." Naminé says.

"Alright." I answer. "I'll pick you up around the corner from your house at ten?"

Naminé smiles. "It's a date." The blush that stains her cheeks is absolutely fucking adorable. "Not a _date! _Um, well, it _is. _But it isn't. You know what I me." She huffs, and I can't help but chuckle at her pout. "Don't laugh at me!"

"I'm not laughing," I point out.

Naminé pouts some more, yawns and looks at me expectantly. "Can I have some more Red Bull." She's making that _I'm-so-cute-that-I-can-get-whatever-I-want-from-you _face.

"No." The caffeine has taken four hours to wear off already. Her parents already hate me; I don't need to make things worse for her by bringing her home on a caffeine buzz and making her parents think she's tripping on ADAM or some shit—because, obviously, preventing their daughter from being sexually abused on school grounds makes me such a fucking delinquent.

"_Please_?" Damn puppy-dog eyes.

"No."

Naminé stomps her foot in frustration, and says in a lilting, sickly-sweet voice: "_Pretty please_, with whipped cream, and sprinkles, and a cherry on top?"

_Keep your shit together man_.

I can't even begin to describe how much I want to cave, but I stick to my guns.

Barely.

"No."

Naminé leans closer, her sweet breath washing over my face, so beautiful that to call her 'hot' would be an inexcusable insult. Her voice goes from sweet to sultry in an instant. "Not even if I ask you like this?"

Her lips are so fucking close to mine that I can practically _taste_ her.

_Fuck it._

"Fine. You can have half a can—I don't want you going home acting like the fucking energizer bunny on crack."

Naminé grins. "I can live with that."

"Junkie," I mutter, shaking my head as I follow her to the car.

**Like it? Hate it? Review please!**

**I figured the story could use a little fluff, considering the dark nature of the storyline. Next chapter we get to see Roxas and Naminé's quasi-date in Twilight Town as well as another surprise that I think everyone will enjoy.**

**Stay tuned!**

**~Script**


	8. Emotional Escapades

**Disclaimer: For the millionth time: no, I don't own Kingdom Hearts. **

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed, you guys rock! And now back to your regularly scheduled angst. **

**Enjoy!**

_**Chapter VII: Emotional Escapades**_

_** Roxas**_

_The world is pain._

_ The bus is lying on its side; there's blood everywhere. Bodies are draped haphazardly over seats, across broken windows, hanging out of the windshield, twined together in a gruesome spread of mangled limbs and gore._

_ Xion is laying on top of me, her youthful, innocent face contorted in pain and misery. "I thought you loved me, Roxas." She says, and then coughs, splattering my face with blood._

_ What the hell is she talking about? "I do love you, Xion. You know that."_

_ Her pixie-like features rearrange themselves into a sneer. "Bullshit. If you loved me, you wouldn't be trying to replace me with someone else. Do you really think that you can make up for killing me by making Naminé happy? Don't delude yourself."_

_ "It's not like that, Xion-" I begin._

_ "I can't believe you!" Xion rages, coughing some more and spewing more blood from her mouth. "You took her to our place! That was supposed to be _special_!"_

_ "Xion," I need to make her understand. _

_ I know I can never replace her, and even though it fucking kills me every time I think about her, I would never _want_ to replace her. _

_ But, that doesn't mean I'm not going to abandon Naminé either._

_ "It _is_ special, Xion. That's why I took her there. I was trying to share a part of my life with her, so she didn't have to think about almost getting fucking raped at school. Is that a good enough reason for you?"_

_ Xion's face crumples, and looking at her expression is like being stabbed a thousand times over in an instant. "Why didn't you save me, Roxas?"_

_*****13*****_

The alarm clock yanks me from the dream at eight in the morning. I look over at the clock as I fumble blindly for my fucking cigarettes and lighter—it's too early in the morning for this shit.

I light up and take a drag; the nicotine takes the edge off dream-Xion's bitterness.

I can't help feeling that maybe I deserve it.

The clock tower was fucking _sacred_ to her.

But, it's not like I can ask her for permission to take Naminé there, and even if I could, I'm not sure that I would—she's a thirteen-year-old kid. I don't need her permission for shit.

Except that she _isn't_ a thirteen-year-old kid anymore; she's gone and it's my fault, and if our positions were reversed—me dead, and her taking other boys to a place I thought was ours alone—I'd probably be pissed too.

Except, if I were dead, I _couldn't_ be pissed off—being _dead_ makes that pretty fucking impossible.

I fumble around for another cigarette, trying to convince myself that I'm _not_ completely batshit crazy and light up before getting into the shower, trying to wash away the shitload of guilt from my dream.

Part of me wants to call Naminé and cancel; but that would break the third tenant of my code: _Don't be a prick._

_Pull your shit together, Roxas. Dead people can't be angry at you._

Or can they?

I'm not so sure anymore; Xion seemed pretty fucking pissed to me.

I get dressed in a black hoodie, black jeans, and my black skate shoes, and run a brush over my teeth before heading out the door to pick up Naminé.

_I'm sorry Xion._

_*****13*****_

_**Naminé**_

I feel almost like a secret agent as I sneak out of the house. The sneaking isn't really necessary-Dad's buried in the morning paper, and Mom's doing Tae-Bo in the living room-they don't notice me anyway.  
Normally, I wouldn't be able to pull it off, especially after another sleepless night, but the adrenaline rush that comes with doing something you know you shouldn't be doing keeps me going.  
"I'm going to meet Kairi at the mall," I say as I step out the door, tucking my sketchbook and art supplies under my arm, which isn't that unusual since sometimes I really do go to the mall just to practice sketching people...I've always been a terrible liar though, and I'd really prefer not to have to come up with something on the spot if I can help it.  
"Have fun," Mom says in the same instant that Dad replies:  
"Be careful."  
"I will," I answer them both at the same time. As soon as the door closes, I shoot off a quick text to Kairi.  
_If anyone asks, we're at the mall._  
A few seconds later, Kairi responds.  
_Got it...What are you actually doing if you don't mind my asking?_  
I know I can trust Kairi, we've been friends since diapers-we're practically sisters. I've never needed to remind her of the unspoken code of silence that comes with asking someone to cover for you, she's just good like that.  
I bite my lip, debating how much to tell her before settling on the simple truth.  
_I'm going to Twilight Town with Roxas._  
I wince waiting for the inevitable squeal that's sure to follow.  
_OMG! I want details as soon as you get back! Don't worry, I'll go see a movie with Sora or something so I'm covered in case your parents ask. Have fun kiddo!  
_Kairi always calls me that-even though she's only a couple months older than me, she's like the big sister I never had-it makes me feel like a kid.  
I take a deep breath and I realize that it's incredibly humid-it must've rained last night. It's not the gross, muggy, middle-of-August kind of humidity either. It's actually kind of nice.  
I round the corner on my street. Roxas is leaning against his sleek black BMW, the epitome of bad-boy as he tossed his cigarette butt into the gutter.  
The twinge of cigarette smoke isn't repulsive in the slightest, even though it should be, and Roxas wears it like aftershave. The scent fits him perfectly, completing his deliciously debonair demeanor.  
Roxas gives me a half-smile as he holds my door open, somehow managing pull off _handsome_ and _dead-man-walking_ at the same time. He looks as tired as I feel; the dark circles under his eyes haven't faded at all, his blue eyes look like they're doing more of a spying-on-the-edge-of-the-universe kind of thing than actually looking at anything.

And then he blinks, apparently out of his funk, and his eyes brighten a little. He grins and motions to the open door. "Your chariot awaits."  
Swept up in the moment, I give a quick curtsy. It's kind of hard to do-the black mini dress ends a few inches above my knees, and the extra-hi-top black converse come to just below them; it's not exactly a regal outfit, but it's comfortable.  
The inside of his car smells like smoke and Axe and Red Bull. The faint scent of the caffeinated beverage makes my stomach rumble quietly in craving; I'm beginning to worry that I might just be a _tiny_ bit addicted to the stuff.

I smile over at Roxas, but he doesn't return the expression right away; his mouth is grim and hard, and he's obviously thinking about something, but I know better than to pry. I twist my fingers in my lap impatiently, waiting for him to work through whatever is bothering him so we can be on our way.

It's extremely difficult to restrain myself enough not to ask him if he's okay; his face is so tortured and stricken that it hurts just to look at him—not that he's ugly or anything, it's just emotionally painful.

Roxas sighs heavily before starting the car. "You ready?"

I nod, clicking my seatbelt into place. "Yeah. Let's go."

Roxas peels away from the curb, and in a few minutes, we're headed to Twilight Town on the freeway. "So, how'd you get away from your folks?" he asks after a moment.

I can't help but be a little proud of how smoothly it went, so I'm smiling a little when I tell him. "I snuck out. They think I'm at the mall with Kairi."

Roxas' smirk is devastatingly suave, his perfectly white teeth flashing in the daylight. "Sounds pretty badass." he says. "And I had you pegged for the 'good-girl' type."

I can feel my cheeks redden at his comment, and I turn from his too-intense blue eyes to look at the landscape flashing by out the window. "I usually am..."

"Well," Roxas says as he weaves through traffic with the kind of deft confidence that comes from having an intimate knowledge of your car and how it works—meaning that if I ever tried to drive like this, I'd probably get myself killed. "There's nothing wrong with loosening up a little..." he flashes me that smile again and my brain gets all fuzzy.

"Right..." I answer, dazed by his pearly whites.

The rest of the trip passes in a comfortable silence, and before I know it, I'm stepping out onto the roof of the clock tower.

It really is beautiful up here; the sky is a brilliant blue, the rays of sunlight spread over the tiled roofs of the houses below. I pull my sketchbook out of my bag and begin drawing, sitting down cross-legged a few feet from the edge.

Roxas is considerably more bold than I am, and he lets his legs dangle over the edge. His casual disregard for the fact that his life is in danger scares me a little—one slip and he's history. "So," he drawls. "Want to play twenty questions?"

"Sure. But you have to answer the questions too." My response is automatic.

"Fair enough." Roxas concedes. "Favorite color?"

"White. Yours?"

"Black." Roxas replies grimly. "Favorite flower?"

"Red roses...what about you?"

"Don't have one—flowers make me think of a lot of shit that I'd rather not focus on, you know? Craziest thing you've ever done?"

"Sneaking out here with you. But I don't regret it—this is amazing." It's the truth, I've never felt anything as deeply or honestly as I do that fact.

"I remember this one time I super-glued Axel's fingers to the steering wheel of his car..._that_ was some funny shit!" Roxas crooned, chuckling.

I chuckle with him, and realize that it's easy, being with him. It feels as right and natural as breathing. Things continue like that for a while, Roxas asking questions while I sketch and answer, occaisionally asking a few questions of my own.

Unfortunately our time at the top of the clock tower is interrupted by my stomach's loud protest in light of the fact that I haven't eaten in six hours, and the fact that I've exhausted all my art supplies. My sketch is finished though, and I'm pretty satisfied with how it turned out.

Roxas grins, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Hungry?"

I smack his arm, embarrassed. "You would be too if you hadn't eaten in six hours!"

Roxas' lips settle back into his trademark smirk—the one that makes my knees weak and my brain all jumbled. "Touché," his voice is milk and honey, sweet and flowing and beautiful. "Let's eat."

"Do you mind if we stop at the art supply store in the mall while we're out? I need to restock." I ask him, clamping down on the urge to bite my lip as I wait for his answer.

"No problem. We can stop there on the way to the food court." Roxas points out. "Come on,"

The Twilight Town shopping complex is _huge—_four floors of shopping heaven. I try to be quick when we finally find the art store, but it still takes me a little while to find what I need—I'm sorta picky about what art supplies I buy.

Roxas is incredibly patient for a guy being dragged on a shopping trip, but by the time we're finished at the store, both our stomachs are growling rather ferociously.

We get sandwiches and coffee from the _Java Bean_ stall and sit down at a table in the corner. After a few minutes, Roxas excuses himself to go to the restroom, and I suddenly feel a lot more vulnerable.

I take a bite of my sandwich, trying to convince myself that I'm just being paranoid. It doesn't really work.

Especially not when a sleazy-looking blonde boy with a blue beanie makes his way over to the table, oozing menace and lewdness. The two other people flanking him—a girl with purple hair, and a tall, burly boy with dark skin—don't look too friendly either.

"Hey doll. Wanna have some fun?"

So much for solitude.

**Thoughts? Anyone?**

**See that little blue button that says 'Review'?**

**I thought so.**

**Click it.**

**You know you want to.**

**See you next chapter!**

**~Script**


	9. Seeking Solace

**Disclaimer: I still don't own Kingdom Hearts.**

**Thank you all so much for your reviews, they really mean a lot! You rock!**

**Not much else to say as far as opening comments go...**

**Enjoy the next chapter!**

_**Chapter VIII: Seeking Solace**_

_** Roxas**_

__His hand is on her breast.

The kid with the blue beanie actually has the nerve to fucking touch her there.

And now, he's going to die for it.

Naminé isn't looking at me, but her face is screwed into a scowl that's equal parts anger and terror, and there are tears on her cheeks. Even though I'm too far away to hear her, her lips very clearly mouth the words: _Stop it!_

The fury hits in an instant, hot and raw and ragged, burning the back of my throat like acid. The red hate-smoke of anger surges through my veins and my mind begins flickering through the possible weapons in the food court as I charge.

The chair at the table across from ours would make a decent club, but that would make too much of a scene.

A food tray isn't heavy enough, and the plastic eating utensils are too flimsy to cause any real damage.

My fist cracks across the his jaw, hard and fast and brutal—I can feel the flesh split under my knuckles. _So fucking satisfying_. I plant a foot in his gut as he sprawls to the ground, unable to hold back the fury singing in my blood.

Beanie boy stands up and rolls his shoulders. "Chill the fuck out, bro. It's not like the bitch belongs to you," he sneers, wiping blood from his lip.

My right fist flashes out connect with his face in a devastating cross as he tries to slip by me. "Go ahead you little shit. Touch her again and see if you're still breathing when I'm done with you."

"Yo, Seifer's gonna beat your ass, y'know!" A burly dark skinned kid warns me.

Seifer—I'm assuming that's his name— spreads his arms and grins. "Come at me, bro."

The fury-burn scalds the back of my throat and sears my veins, but I'm not so blinded by rage that I miss it when Seifer whips his left hand out in a weak jab; I dodge it and go to work on his ribs with hard, heavy blows.

I counter a straight punch from his right hand, locking his arm before slamming my left hand into his elbow with every fucking ounce of strength in me.

The elbow gives way with a sickening crack and Seifer drops like a ton of fucking bricks, screaming and crying like a pussy.

I kneel down next to him with murder in my eyes. "If I _ever_ see you near her again, I'll fucking end you. Am I crystal fucking clear, _bro_?"

The mess of tears and snot and blood on the floor that used to be Seifer nods.

I stand up, brushing myself off and staring the shit out of his cronies. The instinct to protect Naminé is overpowering, and I almost want to dare one of them to make a move. The only thing that's stopping me from killing Seifer is the fact that Naminé is watching—and she's probably scared out of her fucking wits by now anyway.

"Get his bitch-ass out of here." I snarl at them, because if I have to look at him for another second, I'm going to kill him.

The two kids just stare at me, slack-jawed.

"_Now!"_

The kids scramble to help Seifer up and then they hightail it out of here.

I move very slowly over to Naminé's side—I don't want to scare her any more than I already have. "I'm sorry you had to see that, Naminé..." I say, soft and quiet and slow. "It's all over, you're safe."

Naminé slowly puts her arms around me, and she's trembling. "Can we go? Please?" She asks quietly, sniffling.

Her tone almost has me back inside the mangled bus, surrounded by blood and bodies and carnage with Xion laying on top of me.

"Yeah." I tell her helping her out of her chair. She doesn't let go of my hand, squeezing hard enough that my fingers start tingling from loss of circulation.

_Shit_. I can't afford to let my guard down like that again. From this close, I can see the beginnings of a bruise on one side of her face, and only her death-grip on my hand keeps me from hunting Seifer down and beating the shit out of him.

_He fucking hit her..._

The stretch between the food court and the car is a blur, and when I tune back into reality we're on our way back to Destiny Islands.

"Are you okay?" I ask Naminé once her breathing has slowed a little. She still holding my hand, though her grip is loose enough to let the blood flow back into my fingers.

"Yeah...I guess." Naminé says after a long pause. "Thanks for, protecting me. If you hadn't come when you did he would have-"

"Don't think about that," I jump in before she can finish, because I don't want her to go down that road in her head, and because if she says it, I don't know that I can stop myself from turning the car around to finish the job. "I'll be here to protect you as long as you want me to be." I say.

"Thanks." Naminé squeezes my hand again.

Naminé's soft, smooth skin, helps me to calm down, which is good, because too soon, we're pulling up at the corner where I picked her up in the morning.

Naminé squeezes my hand hard enough to start cutting off the blood flow.

"Naminé?" She's not talking, and the force with which she's squeezing my hand makes me wonder if she's having a nervous breakdown or some shit.

I hope not, because I have no fucking clue how to deal with that.

"Please don't leave me alone, Roxas." Naminé's voice breaks, and she sounds so much like Xion that I couldn't refuse her even if I wanted to.

But, even though I can't refuse her, I don't know how I can sneak past her parents.

Almost as if she senses my confusion, Naminé continues. "There's a big oak tree in the back yard. One of the branches is growing over the roof and you can climb in through my window from there." She says.

"I'll be ready. Text me when it's safe to come in." I try not to smile at the thought of being in her bedroom at night with her—now is not the fucking time for that.

"Okay." Naminé says, and slips out of the car. She takes her shopping bag and turns the corner, and then she's out of my sight.

The instant that happens, I'm almost overcome by paranoia because the list of 'what ifs' that could happen to her between my car and her front door is pretty much endless. I almost get out and follow her, but she's been through enough today, and I don't want to scare her by mistake.

And so, I settle in to wait.

_*****13*****_

_** Naminé**_

Trying to pretend that everything's fine is the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life, especially after what happened today. My boobs are still burning where he touched me—I've never felt so violated in my entire life.

Thank gods for Roxas...If he hadn't come when he did...

_No_. I won't let myself think like that, he asked me not to.

My face twinges painfully, distracting me once more and I hurry to think of a believable cover story to explain the bruise on my face. I've never been a good liar—not that that's necessarily a _bad_ thing—but right now, I'm definitely wishing I had better acting skills.

I plaster a cheesy grin on my face as I step through the door, trying to convey _had a blast with Kairi_ rather than _groped by sleazebag_.

"I'm back," I say, forcing a cheerfulness I don't feel into my voice.

"How did it go?" Mom asks as I cross the living room to the stairs—Dad's passed out on the sofa, snoring.

_Well, it was great up until some dirtbag tried to feel me up in the food court... _"Fine. Kairi and I went to the mall in Twilight Town and I got some new art stuff. I can't wait to try it out!" I grin big, praying she buys it as I hold up my bag of goodies.

"I'm glad you had a good time dear,"

"Me too. I'm gonna head up to bed; I'm beat. Love you." I say, letting the weight of the day's events carry in my voice as I blow her a kiss.

"Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you too." mom's voice floats back to me as I head upstairs. I open the door cautiously, wishing I had a can of mace or maybe a knife...Something, _anything_ to defend myself.

I'm not a violent person, but the thought of being completely defenseless if something like that happens again is absolutely terrifying. Maybe I'll start taking self-defense classes...

I change into a tank top and plaid flannel pants, eager to get out of my clothes. My first instinct is to burn them, to get rid of anything that would remind me of this terrible experience, and then the rational side of me kicks in and says: _You could just wash them, you know..._

Right.

I jerk the window open so Roxas can get in easily, and then I sit down at my desk and start sketching to pass the time. Roxas face is in most of the drawings, depicted from pretty much every angle imaginable. It's a little frustrating, because my sketches aren't nearly as handsome as the real thing, but at least it keeps my mind off...other things.

The minutes crawl by; the agony of waiting is almost unbearable, but I manage to wait until my parents turn in for the night to pick up the phone and text Roxas.

Almost immediately after I've sent him the message, he's climbing through the window, silent as a ghost.

Without thinking, I wrap my arms around him, reveling in his warmth and his strength. His arms gently return the embrace and I realize I don't want him to let go.

Roxas presses my face into his shoulder, and I wonder why, until I feel the wetness on his shirt, and realize that I must be crying. His hand caresses my hair. "It's okay, Naminé, you're safe now. I've got you."

I can't help but believe him.

Roxas holds me for a long moment, and I commit his unique scent of cigarettes, leather, and gasoline to memory. He pulls away slowly, hands on my shoulders, eyes wandering to the open sketchbook on my desk before I slam it closed—I don't want him thinking that I'm some kind of stalker.

He smirks gently and I know he's seen at least a few of the drawings, but he doesn't comment.

"Are you ready to go to sleep?" he asks.

As soon as the word 'sleep' is past his lips, I realize how exhausted I am. "Yeah." I crawl under the covers and make myself comfortable. The absence of Roxas' touch sends a pang through me as he drags the desk chair across the blue carpet over to the bed and sits down.

I want him closer, and I speak slowly, fully aware that what I'm about to say isn't something that a friend would ask, but I feel so vulnerable without his arms around me that I can't_ not _ask. "Roxas..."

"Yeah?" His deep blue eyes are warm and soft and safe, and I almost lose myself in them for a moment.

"Will you hold me?" the blush burns on my cheeks and I turn away from him.

The chair creaks as Roxas gets up. "Alright." He lies down on top of the covers and I curl up next to him

Roxas reaches over and gently wipes my tears away with his thumbs. "It's okay. I've got you."

I rest my head on his chest and he drapes an arm over my back, holding me tight enough that I feel safe, but not trapped. "Good night."

"Night." Roxas responds.

He's so warm, and the sound of his breathing and heartbeat are the best lullaby in the world, and before I know it, I'm asleep.

**That's all for now folks! Like it? Hate it? Review!**

**See you next chapter!**

**~Script**


	10. Prelude to Panic

**Disclaimer: I still don't own _Kingdom Hearts_.**

**Thanks to everyone for your reviews and support, you have all been incredible! Keep it up!**

**Here we go!**

_**Chapter IX: Prelude to Panic**_

_** Roxas**_

__There's a weight pressing down on top of me as I lay in bed. It's not exactly uncomfortable, but the weight is making it kind of hard to breathe. The weight is warm and soft and smells like honey and cinnamon.

I pry my eyes open, wondering what the hell is going on. And then I fucking freeze, because this shit isn't right.

I'm not in my hotel room.

Naminé is laying on top of me, out like a fucking light all warm and soft and cute which is _not _helping my morning...'situation' if you know what I mean.

_Oh, shit..._

And then I realize that I'm still clothed, therefore nothing happened last night, which is a huge fucking relief—not that I would have _minded_ if it had. The memory of yesterday filters through my sleep—fogged brain, and I want to murder Seifer all over again.

He had no fucking right to touch Naminé. Period.

Naminé stirs, and presses herself closer to me—_damn—_tucking her head under my chin.

"Morning, Roxas." She says, her voice all thick with sleep. Naminé lifts her head up to look at me, her blue eyes are practically glowing, and she's blushing like I don't know what, but she looks happy. "Thanks for staying."

I shrug, trying to be nonchalant and not focus on the fact that the way she's pressed up against me is making it damn-near impossible not to focus on my raging morning wood. "No problem. Did you sleep alright?"

Naminé grins. "Yeah. No nightmares or anything. You?"

I sift through my brain for any residual images, and when I come up empty, I don't dig any deeper—there's no need to relive that shit after my first nightmare-free night in six months. "Nope. No nightmares."

And then the awkwardness sets in, because this whole sleeping-together thing, even if we aren't having sex, is something that couples do, not friends. Naminé's eyes slide away from mine as she mutters:

"Good" and I realize that I should probably get going—her parents will no doubt murder the both of us if they find us like this, and my life isn't quite shitty enough for me to consider death as a viable alternative to continuing my fucked-up existence.

Naminé stiffens as the floorboards creak down the hallway. "Crap!" she whispers harshly. "My dad's up. You have to hide!" With that, she rolls off of me and I scramble off the bed.

I look around for a place to hide, and the whole scared-shitless thing is not helping my concentration at all."Where the fuck am I supposed to hide?" I wonder, and then my eyes land on her closet doors and despite the fact that it's the most cliché hiding spot for your fuck-buddy, or boyfriend in existence, trying to scramble back out the window would make too much noise.

Naminé seems to have the same idea because she says "In the closet," at about the same time as she heaves the doors open and shoves me inside.

"This is so lame." I comment.

Naminé's death glare almost cracks me up, because she looks like she doesn't know whether to be pissed off or amused. "Shut up." And then she closes the doors and I hear the mattress creak as she flings herself back onto it.

"Morning, sweetheart." Her dad's voice is deep, and I imagine that he'd probably be a pretty intimidating in person.

"Morning, daddy." Naminé throws in a yawn for theatrics, because there's no fucking way she's still drowsy after an adrenaline rush like that.

"Do you want pancakes for breakfast?"

"Sure. Just let me get dressed first." Naminé replies, and then the door clicks shut. After a minute, Naminé opens the closet doors with a smug little smirk on her face. "That was close."

I just nod, trying to shake the images of her dad beating the shit out from my head.

"But, it was kinda fun, too." She admits.

"Sure." If you think almost being discovered by an postal-prone parent and subsequently beaten to a bloody fucking pulp is _fun_. "I should go..." I don't really want to leave, because part of me is worried that something will happen to Naminé in my absence and I've already fucked up once—I don't plan on doing it again.

Naminé looks disappointed, but before she can answer me, her phone rings. She snatches it up in one deft motion saying "Hey Kairi," before it's all the way to her ear. She's nodding, which I find pretty damn amusing since Kairi can't see her.

"Riku's having a party?"

There's a pause and her eyes are begging me to help her out.

"Sure I'll be there. What time?"

Another pause. Her eyes are still pleading, and the fact that her tight white tank top leaves little to the imagination is definitely helping her case. _Hot damn..she is fine._

"Okay, see you then!" Naminé's voice is _way _too perky as she hangs up the phone, and her happy expression crumbles into panic as she hangs up the phone.

"Riku's having a party at the beach...want to be my plus one?" Naminé wonders.

"Sure. Just let me go back to the hotel to change and then I'll pick you up around the corner, alright?" I agree primarily because I don't want Naminé to be alone with Riku—I was one-hundred percent serious about cutting his fucking hand off if he touched her again—but also because the opportunity to see her in a bathing suit is too good to pass up.

"Thanks." Naminé's suddenly hugging me again. She pulls away reluctantly and I start for the window. "Call me when you're ready."

"Will do," I answer and then I'm out the window, down the tree and back to my car in just over a minute, adrenaline works wonders when you need it to.

_*****13*****_

_**Naminé**_

I wolf down my breakfast after trying to mask the bruise on my face with cover-up—Dad doesn't question me on it, and I'm eternally grateful for that.

It takes me forever to pick out a decent bathing suit to take to the beach with me—I want something that will catch Roxas' eye, but doesn't scream _slut_ to everyone who looks at me. I wonder why I care so much what he thinks; but it's kind of hard not to when he stayed the night just to make sure I was alright.

Like I said before: that's not something _friends_ do. Well, maybe, but those would be the kind of friends that irritate everyone by their axiomatic public-displays-of-affection and make them wonder: _Why aren't they a couple already?_

And, while I'll admit that I find the idea of being Roxas' girlfriend interesting— and I'm talking the heartbeat-skipping, stomach-flopping, loves-me/loves-me-not kind of interesting, not the kind of interest you might feel when you notice that the grocery store has a new variety of your favorite cereal—it's also a little scary.

I mean, he clearly has some baggage, which could definitely be a hurdle in the future—if we have a future—but he's also fiercely protective of me, and he hasn't tried to put the moves on me or anything like that, and I have a lot of respect for him because of that.

Speaking of which, he's also pretty selfless. When he rescued me from Riku—and the only reason I'm going to his party is because I know he won't try anything with Sora and Kairi there, because they'd both murder him if he did—he must have _known_ that he was going to have an episode, but he came and helped me anyway.

Which was really nice.

And noble.

And chivalrous.

I catch myself heaving an almost-lovesick sigh, and roll my eyes. _You've got it bad..._

I go back to sorting through my clothes and settle on a two-piece that Kairi insisted that I buy, and even though I swore to her I would never wear anything like that, I'm glad I have it now. I throw a change of clothes and some other necessities into my beach tote, and I'm all set to go; just in time too—no sooner have I finished stuffing everything into the bag than my phone is ringing again.

I sneak a peek at the caller ID before answering with a chipperness that surprises even me. "Hey, Roxas,"

"Hey Naminé. I'm just around the corner if you're ready..." Roxas says, and I can hear the hesitation in his voice.

"I'm all set. See you in a minute." I answer.

"Cool." Roxas adds, and then hangs up.

I'm out the front door before mom and dad have time to protest, offering up a half-baked excuse about meeting Kairi at her house to help her pick out a bathing suit, since it's her and Sora's year anniversary of becoming a couple.

Not bad for something right off the cuff. It's not exactly a lie, because it is their anniversary, but Kairi has never needed fashion advice as long as I've known her; my parents don't know that though, and there's just enough teenage drama in my fib to make sure my parents don't go snooping around. It's no big secret that they have no desire to be caught up in the web of teenage angst and spur-of-the-moment relationships; I never thought that would be my saving grace.

I'm almost skipping down the sidewalk to Roxas' car, flip flops plopping on the cement, and I have to remind myself to tone it down, because my parents could still be watching, and there's really no reason for me to get all excited about helping Kairi pick out a bathing suit.

It's surprising how much I've missed him in the short time that we've been apart—it really hasn't been longer than a few hours since I saw him last, but for some reason, it feels like an eternity. And then the whole _friends vs. more-than-friends_ issue rears its ugly head as I approach Roxas' car.

Roxas has the windows down and a pair of black shades over his eyes, and if I didn't know any better, I'd swear he was smirking at me. "What you do, bring your whole fucking closet?" he says, peering over the top of his sunglasses at the oversize tote I have slung over one arm.

Roxas' effortless profanity doesn't even faze me anymore; it's just part of who he is—even though part of me wants to slap him upside the head for his lip. Instead, I chuck my bag into the backseat through the open window and slide into the passenger seat next to him.

His white button-up shirt is undone, and the hard, chiseled lines of his abs and pecs peek out from the gap between fabric of his shirt _Hell-o muscles. _I have to reign my imagination in when imagine what Roxas must look like after a workout, which inevitably leads to my imaging us working out in unison for mutual benefit and the pursuit of pleasure—I'm sure you can fill in the blanks.

_Slow down _Naminé. I chide myself. _You're jonesing for his bones and you don't even know his last name_. I'm beginning to wonder if Roxas is beginning to rub off on me. That thought leads to a whole slew of inappropriate images and the way Roxas' tan skin contrasts pleasantly with his black swimming trunk is definitely not helping me pull my mind out of the gutter.

I can feel the blush heating my cheeks as I realize that I've gone from admiring to flat-out ogling in less than a second. My embarrassment only gets worse when Roxas points it out—I didn't think I'd been quite _that_ obvious about it, but maybe he's just more observant than I gave him credit for.

"Like what you see, princess?" He's definitely smirking now, and I can't decide whether to be annoyed or amused at his teasing.

In the end, I can't resist the urge to do a little teasing of my own, and I respond with. "You say that as though there's something to look at.",

Roxas' eyes are hidden by his sunglasses, but I can tell he's giving me a fake glare beneath his shades as we pull away from the curb. "Damn. That's harsh." He chuckles. "Blondie's got jokes."

This time I _do _hit him—I can't stand being lumped into a category based solely on my hair color. "Shut up."

Roxas just snickers. "Hello to you, too."

The ride to the beach passes in comfortable silence as we travel down the coast. At first it's because I'm too busy enjoying being close to Roxas to make conversation—okay, so I might be a little smitten, sue me—and then it's because I'm too nervous about seeing Riku again to talk about what we might do at the party.

Roxas seems to pick up on my jitters and he pats my arm. "It'll be okay. I be right here with you the whole time. If Riku tries to start shit or if you feel uncomfortable, just let me know and we can go."

I nod touched by his thoughtfulness. "Thanks." Roxas pulls into an open parking space near the beach and we head toward the cluster of young people playing volleyball.

I can spot Sora's unruly hair immediately, and Kairi is on his arm as usual; her pink bikini showcases her body quite nicely and Sora is clearly proud that she's on his arm, and she looks just as happy to be there as he is to have her there.

And then Riku looks over and I can see his smile for the poorly-disguised leer that it is; I move closer to Roxas out of reflex. He puts an arm around my shoulder, very clearly indicating _hands off_ and takes me over to Sora and Kairi.

I can feel Riku's eyes roaming over my body the whole way over to where Sora and Kairi are standing, and I struggle to suppress a shudder.

Things are _not_ off to a good start.

**Like it? Hate it? Review!**

**Next chapter we get to see some _major_ plot developments, as well as some more RokuNami fluff. Remember, more reviews means faster updates!**

**See you next chapter!**

**~Script**


	11. Dare

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far! I really appreciate your support!**

**And now back to your regularly scheduled angst...**

_**Chapter X: Dare**_

_** Roxas**_

Fact: It is impossible to have a group of young people gathered without supervision without someone saying or doing something incredibly fucking stupid.  
The party is no exception and it's hard to really relax when I catch Riku leering at Naminé every time I look at him.  
I can't say that I blame him, the blue board shorts and matching bikini top that Naminé is wearing is sexy-as-hell on her-but after what he did, I'm not taking any chances.  
I try to distract myself with a few games of volleyball, some swimming, and some rote socialization, but nothing helps. Riku's always on the fringe, and the stares he's giving Naminé are as close to sexual fucking harassment as you can get without touching the person.  
I add Riku's eyes to the list of things that I'm going to rip the fuck off if he touches Naminé again and sigh, wrapping my arm around Naminé protectively.  
"You okay?" Naminé wonders quietly, resting her head on my shoulder.  
"I need a fucking cigarette." I mumble. I haven't had a smoke since yesterday afternoon the nicotine withdraw is already setting in.  
Naminé reaches into her bag and pulls out my cigarettes and lighter.  
"Thanks," I tell her, grateful that she thought to bring them along, because there's no fucking way I'm letting her out of my sight with Riku around.  
It isn't that I don't trust Sora and Kairi, it's just that they can get a little...distracted.  
The cigarette helps, but I'm still going to strangle Riku if he tries anything.  
"What's up?" Sora sprawls out next to me on the blanket, dripping wet with his shit-eating grin plastered on his face as usual.  
I choke down the urge to tell him to fuck off, and shove my cigarette butt into the sand instead. "Nothing."  
Kairi comes over and hugs Naminé from behind, and I get to see Naminé's gorgeous fucking smile for a second and in that second, the world feels a little less like the unforgiving shit-hole that it's been lately.  
We lounge for a while, and then a way-too-perky brunette-Selphie is her name, I think- practically skips over to our blanket.  
"Hey guys! We're lighting the bonfire, wanna join us?", Selphie says, pointing to where Riku is coaxing the fire to life further down the beach. Her voice is dripping with enthusiasm, and I think I might be sick.  
Every fucking nerve in my body is screaming that this is a terrible idea, but Naminé says:

"Sure," before I can stop her, and there's not a chance in hell that I'm letting her go over there alone.

The walk over to the circle of chairs by the bonfire feels like the march of a condemned man, and the poorly-disguised glare Riku's giving me does absolute shit for my confidence in the situation. I sit down on one of the old lawn chairs and Naminé plops down next to me.

Riku stares me down. _Payback's a bitch._

I match his glare. _Bring it fucker._

"Alright, bitches! How's everyone doing?" Riku's frat-boy razz elicits a cheer from the crowd of teenagers. "That's what I like to hear!" Riku raises his hand for silence.

The hush that descends on the group is palpable, and Riku is obviously reveling in the command he has over the gathering of hormone-ruled teenagers.

"Now, as you all know, truth or dare is practically a ritual at this kind of party. But, I thought we could make it a little more interesting if we loosened up a little first." Riku holds a bottle of booze in the air.

The beach fades away, lost in swirl of memories and agony.

I can feel my ribs twisting and shattering, my mouth fills with blood.

It doesn't matter that the physical wounds healed a long time ago.

It doesn't matter that what's happening right now is impossible in every fucking sense of the word.

Because the universe doesn't exist here.

Reality is a lie.

All that's real is me, and the pain.

_*****13*****_

_ Everyone is laughing, knocking back booze and razzing each other like they're kings of the world._

_ They're stoned on self-confidence and hard liquor, convinced of their own invincibility._

_ Fucking morons._

_ Xemnas turns around to stare at me as he wrenches the wheel sideways and the bus barrels through the guardrail with a shriek of rending metal. _

_ "Kiss your ass goodbye, Cambridge." He sneers._

_ I reach over and grab Xion out of instinct, crushing her to my chest. "It's okay, kiddo. I've got you."_

_ And then we're rolling. It's like being inside a washing machine during the spin cycle, and it's all I can do to hold onto Xion in all the chaos. I can hear the screams and the sickening snaps of their bones as the crash into the bus interior like ragdolls. Blood sprays over the walls in crimson fountains of gore._

_ I can feel the shotgun-snap of my ribs breaking, and then my lung deflates like a balloon and the pain is un-fucking-bearable. My mouth is filling with blood, and it takes me a moment to realize that we've stopped rolling._

_ Everyone is dead, the bodies are strewn about the interior of the bus like discarded party streamers. _

_ Xion is still in my arms, bleeding from her nose, mouth, and eyes. "You said you would save me!" She accuses angrily, before coughing and spraying my face with hot blood. _

_ Her words are like a hot knife being driven into my still-beating heart._

_ "I tried, Xion, I really did. I'm sorry I couldn't save you." The words are woefully inadequate, but they're the truth._

_ "I loved you, Roxas." Xion coughs, and more blood dribbles out of her mouth. "Why couldn't you love me too?"_

_ "I did love you!" I answer, holding her tightly; maybe I can make her believe it through physical contact, maybe if I hold her tight enough, she'll feel the truth of my words._

_ Xion turns her head to the side an vomits out another stream of blood. She looks at me, tears streaming down her cheeks, and mingling with the blood on her skin. "If you loved me, why did you kill me?"_

_ I don't have an answer for her; and even if I did, it's too late. Xion slumps over on my chest and a few gentle shakes confirm what I already know:_

_ Xion is gone._

_ *****13*****_

_** Naminé**_

Roxas stiffens next to me, and I can tell by the look in his eyes that he's having another episode. I need to get him out of here, but I don't know how to do it without making a scene. I look at Kairi, silently begging for help.

Riku turns to me, and his lips peel back from his teeth in a decidedly unfriendly smile. "Naminé. Truth, or dare?" he asks slowly.

I can't pick dare, because that will no doubt have me kissing him or something else that's equally unacceptable; and he knows me too well for truth to have a good outcome either. But the longer I deliberate, the worse Roxas gets, and it's probably only a matter of time before he starts taking drastic measures to pull himself out of his vision.

I take a deep breath and utter the words that will undo me. "Truth."

Riku's eyes flash, and in that instant, I know that the question he's about to ask is ten times more horrible than anything I could have possibly imagined. "What's the worst thing that's ever happened to you?"

I can't answer him.

I'm drowning in the blue surge of sorrow and the red swirl of anger at the unfairness life and the lump in my throat chokes me.

Because I know what the worst thing that's ever happened to me is.

I can pinpoint the exact moment that my life changed forever.

And if Riku's going to use it to cruelly manipulate me into doing what he wants, then he doesn't deserve to know.

The words that leave my lips are the most spiteful and hateful words I've ever spoken. "Meeting you!"

I can barely hear the shouts of approval from my peers. Even though meeting Riku is definitely something I consider to be one of the worst things that's ever happened to me, especially after everything he's done, it's not what I was thinking of.

Because no amount of anti-depressants or therapy will make me forget.

Not ever.

_*****13*****_

_ Thunder snarls overhead._

_ The rain is coming down in sheets, and it doesn't show signs of letting up anytime soon. I'm soaked to the bone, ragged chills throttle my body—but these chills are less from cold and more from horror._

_ The girl is coughing up blood._

_ Her black hair is cropped short in a pixie-cut, and her angelic face is contorted in pain and terror._

_ Her pulse is thin and erratic, and she's gasping for breath—she looks grateful when I fit the oxygen mask over her face._

_ "Thank...you." She whispers. She manages a partial smile—her teeth are caked with blood._

_ "You're welcome, sweetheart. Can you tell me your name?" I ask. Her pulse is slowing, and she coughs again, splattering the inside of the oxygen mask with blood._

_ "Xion." She says, weakly before being beset by another hacking fit. Blood dribbles from the corner of her mouth. "Am I going to die?" she asks. "I feel like I am."_

_ "That's a very pretty name. Don't you worry, Xion. You're gonna be just fine." I have to fight back tears now, have to make myself believe the words so I can comfort her._

_ "Hey..." Xion breathes, her blue eyes clouded. "I need you to do something for me."_

_ "Anything," I don't even have to think about the answer. Her pulse is even weaker and slower than before._

_ "My brother...his name is Roxas...Could you tell him I love him for me?" She whispered._

_ "Of, course I can. But, you'll have the chance to do that yourself, soon."_

_ Xion shakes her head sadly. "Please...tell him. He has blonde hair that's all spiky, and really pretty blue eyes...He really likes...sea-salt ice cream. It's his favorite food in the whole wide world." Her voice is whisper thin._

_ I can feel a tear trace it's way down my face. "He sounds really nice."_

_ "He's the best brother ever." Xion agrees, so quietly I can barely hear her. "He sings me to sleep sometimes. Will you sing to me?"_

_ I nod, crying in earnest now._

_ I don't care if it looks unprofessional—anyone who _doesn't_ cry at the unfairness of the fact that such a sweet little girl is dying has no soul._

_ "Okay." I dredge up a song from my memory. My mother used to sing it to me when I was little._

_ "_You're giving me...too many things, lately. You're all I need. You smiled at me, and said:

'Don't get me wrong, I love you. But does that mean I have to meet your father? When we are older you'll understand—what I meant when I said "no". I don't think life is quite that simple...When you walk away you don't hear me say:

'Please, oh baby, don't go.'

_ I can't finish—I'm crying too hard. Maybe I'm not cut out for this job..._

_ "You have a beautiful voice." Xion says. Her smile is blinding, despite the bloodstains on her teeth. She reaches over to feebly take my hand. "Don't forget...to tell Roxas...I love him." _

_ "I'm sorry I couldn't save you." I tell her as the tears drip off my chin. "I tried. I really did."_

_ Xion squeezes my hand. "I know you did. I don't blame you, or Roxas for what happened. It's okay." She pauses to cough up more blood, and stares earnestly into my eyes. "Just...take care...of Roxas, okay? He needs you."_

_ I nod firmly, determined to honor her last request. "I will."_

_ In a whisper so faint that I can barely hear it, Xion smiles and says "Thank you."_

_ And then she's gone._

_*****13*****_

I snap back into reality, realizing that the last place on earth I want to be is here, with Riku.

Roxas seems to have the same idea because he's already standing and muttering apologies to Sora and Kairi—both of whom look thoroughly confused.

I toss my own apologies in for good measure, and Kairi looks at me with this warmth that lets me know she's not angry at me, but one that clearly says _We'll be discussing this later._

I follow Roxas back to our blanket and help him pack up our things. He doesn't say much, but he smokes three cigarettes in the span between the blanket and the car, so whatever he saw must have really shaken him up.

He pops a couple of mints before speaking as we get into the car. "Do you want to go home?"

No. I don't want to go home—I can't go home like this; I don't have the energy to field mom and dad's questions after that.

But I might know a place where we can go to get away from all the pain and the sadness and the guilt for a while.

It's my own private sanctuary, but if Roxas can take me to his, I can take him to mine—maybe it will help the both of us heal a little.

"Not right now," I answer him. "I have something to show you first."

Roxas starts the car, raising an eyebrow. "Where are we going?"

"To my art studio."

**That's all for now everyone! **

**Like it? Hate it? Review! I'd like to have at least 5 reviews for this chapter before I post the next one, and rest assured that we won't be seeing much fluff after next chapter—this _is_ a tragedy after all...**

**Catch you on the flipside,**

**~Script**


	12. Sentimental Scrawl

**Disclaimer: If you don't know by now, read the other ten chapters.**

**Wow. That was quick. Thank you all so much for your reviews! Keep it up!**

**Without further adieu...**

_**Chapter XI: Sentimental Scrawl**_

_** Roxas**_

__We pull up outside an apartment complex not far from the hotel I'm staying in. The outside is pretty fucked-up, but the inside is alright for a place that rents out studio apartments. The place even has a doorman, which seems a little unnecessary if you ask me, but I'm not complaining.

Naminé must know the guy though, because she says: "How's it going Ansem?" as we head inside.

I can't hear the old man's reply—Naminé's already pulling me into the elevator. She stabs a button with too much force, and the piece of shit elevator creaks upward.

"Jerk," Naminé mutters.

"Who?" I say a little more harshly than I mean to. The elevator is old and rickety—and I _refuse_ to die in a fucking elevator, I really need a fucking cigarette, and the fact that Naminé is staring at the buttons like she wants to beat the shit out of them doesn't help the tension at all.

"Riku." Naminé says his name like a curse word. "He asked me what the worst night of my life was..."

_I should have killed him._ Somehow, I know that's what she's going to say, and I feel a pang of regret for not beating the fucking daylights out of him when I had the chance.

"I'm sorry." I tell her, though it's more because I wasn't looking out for her like I should have been, because I fucked up _again_, even though I promised myself I wouldn't.

"Don't be. It wasn't your fault. Riku's an asshole." Naminé growls, and I chuckle in spite of myself—I've never heard her curse before, and to be honest, I didn't think she was capable of it.

I nod, because that's what she needs from me right now.

_Get your shit together, Roxas!_ I command myself as the elevator dings.

"Come on," Naminé says, and I follow her down the hallway, inwardly despising the shitty wallpaper, until she leads me to a door at the end of the hallway. She digs into her purse and fishes out a key to unlock the door.

"I come here sometimes," She says as she opens the door. "Drawing helps me relax when I get stressed out."

The sheer whiteness of the room blinds me for a second, until my eyes adjust and I realize that the walls are covered in drawings.

There's a shitload of artwork, in every medium you could possibly imagine.

Paintings.

Watercolors.

Sketches.

Hell, there's even a few done in crayon.

Her sketch of the Twilight Town skyline is pinned up directly across from the door—her details are so crisp and clean that if I hadn't seen her draw it, I'd believe it was professionally done.

"Damn. These are really good." I tell her.

Naminé flushes. "Thanks," her voice is so quiet that I can barely hear her.

I walk through the room to admire her work, until I realize that there's one wall that's devoted entirely to sketches of..._me_.

There are pieces from every angle, in every medium, using every technique, and I'm not sure whether to be flattered of creeped the fuck out by that shit.

I look over at Naminé, who has _Oh, shit_ written all over her face.

"Ah..." I'm not sure how to verbalize my feelings, so I end up gesturing at the wall like a complete fucking moron. Finally, my tongue catches up to my brain. "Why?"

Naminé's blush is adorable, and she turns away to hide her face. "I'm not a stalker or anything, I swear!" She sounds like she's going to cry, and I can't bear that, so I'm quick to let her know that I'm not upset.

"I know you're not. I'm just, surprised, that's all." I tell her, taking her gently by the shoulders. Part of me wants to tell her that she needs to eat more—her bones are thin and delicate under my hands. She looks up at me, and I suddenly realize how _close_ we're standing.

"Oh. Good." The relief in Naminé's voice is palpable. "I was worried you were going to freak out or something...I really wasn't trying to creep you out or anything...It's just..." She's leaning closer now, I can practically feel her lips on mine when she speaks. "You make me feel...whole." Her lips brush against mine, and I can't take it anymore—she's so fucking close and warm and soft and I _need_ her.

I close the gap and press my lips to hers.

The contact is indescribable.

It's visceral, hot and hard and fast and rough; maybe because we're so desperate for each other, maybe because for the first time in our fucked-up lives, someone_ gets it_.

All I know is that I don't want it to stop.

_**I hate you! **_ Xion's voice screams from the depths of my subconscious. I know she's going to make my life hell later, and maybe I deserve it, since I never would have met Naminé if it wasn't for the accident.

_**I hate you, Roxas! You said you loved me! And now you're just replacing me with her! You're the worst big brother ever!**_

That stings.

The fact that she's dead and can't actually _say _those things to me does nothing to ease the pain of her words—if anything, it makes it worse.

The shock of it literally throws me away from her, a jerky, spastic motion that has no place in a first kiss.

"Sorry." I breathe, hoping, _praying_ that I didn't just fuck up royally and ruin our friendship—I can't bear losing Naminé on top of everything else that's happened to me.

"It's okay," Naminé's breathing is ragged, her eyes are glassy, and she doesn't seem to care about what's just happened. "That was..._wow_." She gets this dreamy-eyed stare when she looks at me and then I know that we've just passed the point of no return into the _more-than-friends_ zone, and it scares the shit out of me, because I have no fucking idea what the hell to do next.

_*****13*****_

_** Naminé**_

Oh. My. God.

Roxas...

I don't have words to describe the intensity of his kiss—it feels like I'm coming to life after all these months of misery.

It's ecstasy.

It's rough and hard and passionate—much more than a first kiss should be.

The heady thrall of his lips on mine takes hold of my senses and the universe drops away.

It all goes black for a beat.

Two.

Three.

Four.

My universe exists, every law of physics and nature hinged on the simple fact that Roxas is _kissing_ me, and our lips are a perfect fit.

And then there's this brilliant explosion of color and light and life and it's like: _Oh. This is what __it's like to live._

I start to get a little lightheaded, because apparently, I've forgotten how to breathe, and then Roxas pulls away sharply like he's been burned.

"Sorry." He mutters.

If I could talk I'd say _shut up and kiss me again_, but what comes out is: "It's okay." I try again, and this time it's: "That was..._wow_."

It's official.

Kissing Roxas turns my brain to mush.

And I don't even care.

The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of kisses and raw passion. I remember hearing somewhere that relationships are supposed to be give-and-take, about making sacrifices for the sake of the other person's happiness.

This isn't giving.

This is theft.

Coercion.

Manipulation.

This is all take.

Both of us are high on ragged need and desire, and somewhere between Roxas' teeth nipping my earlobe, and my teeth sinking into his lip, it hits me:

_This is wrong_.

It shouldn't be like this.

I'm the good girl.

I don't go from first kiss to second base in one afternoon.

And now I'm starting to think that maybe I don't want to be that girl anymore. Roxas is worth my reputation, my hard-fought, hard-won image of innocence and purity and maybe he's corrupting me a little because all I can think is:

_Screw that_.

Little by little, we come down from our brain-blitz and realize that we should stop before we end up doing something _really _stupid. But, after today, I can't bear to be apart from Roxas.

"Will you stay the night again?" I wonder as we head down in the elevator.

Roxas shakes his head ruefully. "Nah. I can't—I booked the hotel for another night. But, I can call you later if you want."

I nod, because I'll take what I can get at this point. "Okay."

The frenetic fever-pitch of desire still hasn't left me when Roxas drops me off, and I force myself to tone it down for my parents' sake.

"You'll call me later, right?" I ask, I sound like one of _those_ girls, the kind that's willing to throw themselves at any member of the opposite sex out of sheer desperation, but I don't care.

Because I'm not one of _those_ girls.

I'm _Roxas'_ girl.

That thought thrills me more than it scares me and I'm floating on cloud nine when I step through the front door.

"How was the party?" Mom wonders.

"Fine. I had a good time." I tell her as I start up the stairs.

Mom replies with something that sounds like "I'm glad," but I'm already up the stairs by that point, grinning like a fool now that I don't have to hold myself back.

_Roxas' girl._

I like the sound of that.

**Like it? Hate it? Review!**

**I'd like to get at least 5 more reviews before the next chapter gets posted—I know you can do it!**

**The angst picks up in spades after this chapter; just thought I'd let you know because some of you have been looking forward to it...**

**See you next chapter!**

**~Script**


	13. Aggravated Assault

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**I'd like to take a moment to thank everyone who has reviewed, your support has been incredibly helpful throughout this fic, and I sincerely hope it continues. You guys are amazing!**

**As promised, the angst really kicks off in this chapter, and we get to see the Riku/Roxas fight scene that many of you have been waiting for.**

**Enjoy!**

_**Chapter XII: Aggravated Assault**_

_** Roxas**_

__I wake up with my phone next to my ear—Naminé's breathing is soft and steady on the other end. I have no idea how late we stayed up last night, just shooting the shit, talking about everything and nothing.

I snap the phone shut and force myself out of bed.

My fingers fumble with the lighter, I really need a fucking cigarette, because the residual images from last night's dreams are snapping through my brain in a furious blur and I need to shake that shit quick if I'm going to be in any condition to pick up Naminé for school.

I find myself praying that I wasn't talking in my sleep or some shit, because even though I know Naminé gets it, it'd still be embarrassing as fuck to find out that she heard me.

I shower and throw on some clothes and then cruise over to Naminé's house. I park around the corner, because even through I'm ninety-nine percent sure that her parents have no idea what my car looks like, I'm not taking any chances.

Naminé looks particularly fucking adorable today, her black dress and knee-high canvas sneakers complement her figure nicely. The dark circles under her eyes tell me that she didn't get much sleep either, and I debate offering her a Red Bull before deciding against it—I don't need her acting like the fucking Energizer bunny on speed right before school.

"Morning," Naminé leans over to kiss my cheek, and it takes a tremendous amount of effort to restrain myself from making out with her right then and there.

"Hey," I respond, trying to play it cool. "Did you sleep alright?" I ask, even though I'm pretty sure I already know the answer.

Naminé shrugs. "Sort of. I had a nightmare last night, but it was nowhere near as bad as what it normally is, so that's good."

"Me too," I answer, keeping it short and to the fucking point, because I don't want to relive that shit right now.

I pull away from the curb after Naminé is buckled in—safety first—and we arrive at the school with plenty of time to spare.

We catch all kinds of shit from the other upperclassmen who were at the party—except for Sora and Kairi, who are nowhere to be found today—but I tuck Naminé under my arm and grit my teeth because it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks.

Naminé and I sit next to each other in homeroom, ignoring the stares from our classmates—they have no fucking idea what we've had to go through, and therefore their opinions mean jack shit.

Too late, I realize I've violated another tenant of my code: _Don't get attached_, but I can't really bring myself to regret it.

Because as long as Naminé is happy, I am too.

_*****13*****_

By lunchtime, the teasing has died down considerably, but Naminé and I hide out in a corner of the lunchroom at our own little table.

Things are going well, and to be honest, that puts me on edge a little because my life is just too fucked up for _anything_ to go well for an extended period of time.

And, just as I'm starting to relax a little, Riku saunters over to the table, smirking like the douchebag he is. He slides into the seat between Naminé and I like he fucking belongs there, and it takes every erg of self-control I have not to beat the shit out of him right here and now.

"How's it going, baby girl?" Riku sneers, and the tone of his voice turns my stomach.

Naminé seems to shrink at his presence. "Leave me alone." she says firmly.

_Fucking rapist_. That's exactly what he sounds like, and his next words just make it worse.

"I've come to collect on my debt, Nami-baby." Riku's smile makes me sick. "After all, you ditched my party, the one I threw specifically for you.

"I'm not interested, Riku." Naminé says.

Riku laughs, like this is all a big fucking joke to him. "What?"

Naminé glares at him with a ferocity that I've never seen from her before. "I said: '_I'm not interested_'."

All traces of Riku's good mood vanish in that instant. "What'd you say, bitch? Did-did you just say _no_? 'Cause that's what it sounded like."

I lay a hand on Riku's shoulder, fingers digging into his flesh. "She said 'no'. Back the fuck off."

Riku turns to me and in true douchebag form, he smirks and says. "Come at me, bro."

I quell the anger raging within me with an insane amount of effort, and settle for giving him the finger instead.

"Let's try this again...Naminé, what time would you like me to pick you up tonight?" Riku sneers.

"I'm not going with you." Naminé replies.

Riku's hand rises, open and ready for a strike. "You ungrateful-"

And that's as far as he gets before he;s choking on his own blood and spit as my hand cracks into his throat.

All the rage that I've been keeping pent up inside me erupts in this massive fucking surge, and it's just too much to hold back.

I drive Riku to the floor in a tackle, wailing on his smug-as-shit face until his nose and lips are gushing blood. Almost as an afterthought, I dump the remains of my drink onto his face and kick him hard in the ribs. "You touch her again, and I swear to god I'll fucking kill you."

Riku coughs and chokes and wipes his face, gripping the edge of a table to help himself up. "You think you're so tough, don't you _Cambridge." _He sneers.

The silence in the room is deafening.

Shit...

"Yeah, that's right folks. Roxas fucking Cambridge is a student here, the sole survivor of the bus accident that killed his entire basketball team. What do you have to say for yourself Roxas?"

My fist snaps out reflexively, and the feel of his nose breaking under the blow isn't nearly as satisfying as it should be.

Because everyone is giving me _the look_

_Why you and not them?_

_ What makes you so special?_

_ Why do you get to live?_

"Killer!" Someone shouts, and then it becomes a fucking mantra, and the whole cafeteria is chanting it, and my world is crashing down around my ears.

And I feel like a complete fucking moron, because now two tenants of my code are down the fucking toilet, and I have no one to blame but myself for my misery—I invented the code so _this_ could be avoided.

Shit lot of good that did me.

And now Naminé's in the middle of it all, and it's all my fucking fault.

She's looking at me like she's about to cry, and I can't tell whether it's from pity or fear, but it doesn't really matter, because I'm never going to bother her again.

I've fucked up enough lives, caused the death and suffering of too many people to watch it spread to her now too.,

"Roxas, don't listen to them!" Naminé says, shouting to be heard over the noise.

I feel like I've just been fucking stabbed—I'm sick to my stomach, and my heart aches. _This _is why I promised myself I wouldn't get attached. Because when shit like this goes down, I don't want anyone else to be dragged into the middle of it either.

But, there's a small chance—it really is pretty fucking miniscule—that if I leave, maybe the shitstorm will follow me, and Naminé can be happy again.

I'd rather that, than have her suffer because of my mistakes.

Because I'm a glutton for punishment, I lean down and kiss Naminé's forehead. "I'm sorry I got you involved in all this. I didn't mean to fuck up your life or anything; so I'm going to go now. I'm not coming back, so you don't have to worry about me ruining anything anymore. I hope that someday you can forgive me for all the pain I've caused you..." I let out a long sigh, and wipe the tears from Naminé's face with my thumbs.

"Please don't cry. It's better this way, you'll see..." I tell her, and I mean it. She's openly bawling now, and I turn away because I can't handle that shit.

Because if I look at her, I'm gonna lose it too. This kills me as much as it's killing her, but I don't have a choice in the matter.

"Roxas, wait!" Naminé begs.

I don't turn around. My mind is made up. "Goodbye Naminé. Have a wonderful life, get some of those paintings out there and get famous like I know you can...Take care of yourself, Naminé."

The stretch between the cafeteria and the car and then the highway is a blur.

I fucked up royally.

I didn't follow my own rules, and look where it got me.

I haven't visited Axel or Xion since this whole business with Naminé started, and I hope nothing's happened to Axel, cause that would just be the icing on the fucking cake.

But...

To be honest, I wouldn't be at all surprised if something _has_ happened.

Because if there's one thing I've learned in the past six months, it's this.

Happiness is a lie.

Hope is for losers.

Only the good die young—really.

And anyone who tries to tell you differently is full of shit.

**Hit? Miss? Review and let me know!**

**See, I told you things would pick up! And it only gets worse from here...**

**Catch you next chapter!**

**~Script**


	14. The Easy Way Out

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Thanks a ton to everyone who's reviewed so far, your support is what keeps me going, and I'm glad to hear that everyone's enjoying the story.**

**Just a heads-up: we won't be hearing from Naminé for a little bit...you'll see why as the story progresses.**

**On with the show!**

_**Chapter XIII: The Easy Way Out**_

_** Roxas**_

I hit the highway doing eighty, weaving in and out of traffic like a fucking maniac. Horns blare in my hears as I thread through the gaps between cars, engine purring under the hood.

I don't really have a destination in mind, all I know is that I need to get the fuck out of Destiny Islands before the shit hits the fan and hope that the trouble follows me instead of Naminé.

It kills me to leave her, like a jagged hole's been torn through my chest.

It almost hurts worse than the knowledge that I couldn't save my sister.

_This _is what the code was supposed to prevent.

_Don't get attached. _

It's pretty damn simple.

But, like the dumbass that I am, I managed to fuck that up too.

I light a fucking cigarette and drag from it, hoping to take the edge off—having a flashback at a hundred plus on the freeway is _not_ what I need right now.

The gas light comes on.

"Shit!" I growl when I realize that the closest gas station is in Twilight Town. I grind the pedal into the floor, blowing through the city limits before I'm forced to slow down.

I stop off at a gas station for fuel and cigarettes, and then I figure that I might as well visit Axel while I'm here—it's been three days since my last visit, and I feel like an ass for breaking my streak and not visiting him every day.

The hospital hasn't changed at all since I've been here last, and Axel's still in the same room.

Unfortunately, I can't say the same for Axel.

I wonder how much I could've fucking missed in the three days that I've been gone—apparently, shit's been going down around here, because Axel looks like he's at death's door.

His face is pale, and his eyes are sunken, and there's an incredibly unsettling rattle when he breathes.

The beeping of the heartbeat monitor reassures me that he is, in fact, alive. But, I'd feel better if the tones weren't so far apart.

I collapse into the same worn chair that I sit in every time I visit, feeling a thousand fucking years old.

"How's it been, bro?" I wonder.

_**Shitty. Where the hell've you been, man. It's been ages.**_

__"I've been busy. Dealing with shit, you know? How are you feeling?"

_**Like I've been fucked up the ass by a grizzly bear. It's getting really hard to breathe, and my heart seems to be taking a shit lately. It scares the hell out of me to be honest.**_

__"You'll be okay man. I know it." I try to make myself believe it.

_**So...How's that chick?**_

"Her name is Naminé." I tell him quietly, and the ragged hole in my chest feels like it's been filled with hydrochloric acid.

_**Right. So...Did you tap that yet?**_

__"No. I left, Destiny Islands man. I couldn't protect her, and I don't want her to end up like Xion, too."

_**Dude. How many fucking times have we been over this shit? It. Wasn't. Your. Fault. You saw what happened to me when I tried to get Xemnas to pull over and let me drive—do you really think you could've done any better?**_

__"I could've done _something_! I could've been faster. Or stronger. Or tougher; if I hadn't qgotten knocked out, Xion would still be alive!" The truth of those words reverberates in my bones. I am nothing but a worthless, useless failure.

_**Do you realize how fucking ridiculous you sound right now? In case you've forgotten, you almost died too. There was nothing you could have done, Roxas. Sometimes, life just deals us a shitty hand. And as much as it sucks, we have to play with the hand we get.**_

__"Right. I've gotta get going...I'm low on funds, and I can't exactly ask my parents for a loan. Time to find a job." It isn't even a lie. My parents haven't called me since I left for Destiny Islands, and I have all of a hundred bucks to my name. I am, as the saying goes, shit-out-of-luck.

_**A'ight. Peace, bro. Don't forget about me. The nurses sound hot as hell, but since I can't move or open my eyes to see them, you're gonna have to describe them to me sometime.**_

__"Will do. Later."

And then I'm gone, out into the cold, lonely, hellhole that is my life.

_*****13*****_

The days pass in a blurjob applications, cheap-ass hotel rooms, cigarettes, and Red Bull.

Nothing comes back.

Nobody wants me.

Which doesn't really suprise me—I ruined their lives, or at least that's how they see it, so of course they aren't going to be chomping at the bit to see me again.

Unwanted.

Alone.

Deserted.

Back to square one.

To be honest, I feel pretty fucking stupid for believing that I could be accepted anywhere after what happens. I guess it's time to wake up from my delusions and make the best of things.

At least Naminé's happy.

That makes my suffering worthwhile.

_*****13*****_

There's a break in the vicious cycle of continual rejection when Axel's mother calls. I wake up at the shitty desk in the twenty-bucks-a-night motel I'm staying in, face down in a puddle of my own drool.

I'm too slow to reach the phone, but she leaves a voicemail.

She's crying, and it's a little hard to understand what she's saying, but after the third time through, I get it all.

_"Roxas, you have to come see Axel! I don't know how long he's going to last; he might be gone before you get here, so please hurry. Come down to the hospital as soon as you get this."_

I go out to my car, ready to rip across town...only to realize that my car has a flat tire, and I don't think I have time to change it now.

_Fuck it_.

I'll just walk.

It's a reasonable distance, but smoking has killed my endurance, and I'm definitely not up for jogging straight through fifteen blocks—especially since I haven't actually _eaten_ anything in three days.

By the time I've gone the first ten blocks, I'm bent over, wheezing and gasping like a fish out of water.

I take a moment to catch my breath, hating myself for my weakness, and the sound of knuckles cracking and the distinct _thwack_ of something hard on flesh freezes my blood.

"You're dead, y'know."

I turn at the voice—I'd recognize it anywhere.

Bitch-boy—Seifer—and his lame-ass cronies are strolling up the block like they fucking own the place.

Seifer's holding a bat, one arm in a sling. "You're gonna die, asshole." He sneers.

I have to give him credit—he doesn't waste time with shitty banter, he just jumps right in.

Everyone wants to think they're gonna be the hero when it comes time to fight.

Everyone wants to be able to say: _I can get down to the nitty-gritty when shit pops off._

But fighting in real life is nothing like the movies.

There isn't a carefully coreographed sequence of moves.

There's no medical team on stand by.

And there's no do-overs if you fuck up.

It's you versus them.

No holds barred.

Last man standing wins.

It's a knock-down, drag-out brawl, schoolyard style.

It's fierce and brutal and hellish—a smear of blurred images and reflexive movements, backlit by pain and the taste of your own blood.

Here goes...

I dodge the first blow easily, but then his two flunkies join in and I'm shit-out-of-luck because it's three-on-one and I'm already exhausted from running this far.

The burly black kid manages to land two solid punches before I break his nose. He falls over, clutching at his face and screaming like a bitch. A swift kick to the face puts his lights out.

The girl goes down with an ankle-sweep, and doesn't get up again.

And then Seifer is all over me, which is too-fucking-bad for me, because I'm out of juice.

His bat cracks against the side of my head, and then I'm out.

_*****13*****_

I peel myself off the sidewalk and scrape the crust of dried-blood off my face six hours later. I hurry to the hospital, dreading what they're going to tell me, but knowing all the same.

"Is Axel Clarke still in room 138?" I'm bent over the receptionist's desk, fighting not to puke all over shit.

"No...It looks like he's been discharged." The receptionist says.

The bat must've hit me harder than I thought, because I'm not making the connection between the word and the action.

"What?"

"He's gone."

And just like that, my universe is over.

_He's gone_.

I failed again.

I fucked up my one last shot at redemption, lost my one last lifeline.

And the funny part is: All I really want to do now is get completely fucking wasted.

And why the hell shouldn't I?

The rest of my code is shit now anyway.

So that's what I do.

I spend the day bumming liquor from every person who will give it to me.

I'm numb.

Good.

But, at the end of the day, it hits me: _I have nothing._

No friends.

No family that cares about me.

Nothing.

And the pain of that knowledge is so great that I want it over right the fuck now.

My life is meaningless anyway.

No one will miss me.

I'm too fucking plastered to walk to the clock tower, but there's a huge-ass window behind me that I shatter with a rock. An alarm blares immediately, but I don't give a shit about that.

I dig through the shards, slicing open my fingers in search of a long shard. When I find it, I dig it into my arm and carve a sick red line into my flesh.

It fucking hurts.

But with each passing moment, as blood soaks my jeans and my shirt, it starts to hurt a little less. Which is good, because now I feel what I've wanted to feel for these last six months: _numb_.

Blackness chews at the edges of my vision, and I slump over, too infinitely tired to hold myself up anymore.

_Don't worry, Xion. We'll be together again soon._

**Hit? Miss? Review!**

**I'd like to get at least 5 reviews for this chapter before I post the next one...I know you guys can do it!**

**See you next chapter!**

**~Script**


	15. Dead Man's Discoveries

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Wow. I'd like to thank everyone for the incredible amount of support I've received for the last chapter—that was amazing! Please continue!**

**Here we go!**

_**Chapter XIV: Dead Man's Discoveries**_

_** Roxas**_

__Being dead hurts more than I ever imagined.

No, scratch that.

It doesn't

It fucking _kills_.

I can't help the groan that passes my lips, and it feels like razor blades chewing at my throat. And then I cough, and my throat is trying to fucking murder me for the trouble.

My first instinct is to sit up, try to get some air in my lungs, but a firm hand pushes me back down on the bed, or couch, or whatever soft thing I happen to be laying on at the moment.

"Easy there, son." Someone says. It's not the voice of my father, and my first instinct is to snap: _I'm not your son. _But I don't.

I have no fucking clue what's going on here, and since I should be dead, it's probably a good idea to find out what's going on around here before I flip my shit.

I pry my eyes open—my vision is a blurry smear that ratchets into focus as slow as molasses in fucking January.

An old man with thick-rimmed glasses, white hair, mustache, and three days worth of stubble stares back at me. "You were in pretty bad shape when I scraped you off the sidewalk last night. It's best you just rest for now."

"Who are you?" the question is reflexive—the last thing I need is to end up in the hands of a geriatric shyster.

"My name is Gipetto." The man replies.

"Roxas," I croak—it feels like glass shards are being ground into the soft flesh of my throat.

"What happened?" I wonder—shit gets a little fuzzy after your fifth beer.

The man gestures to the smashed plate-glass window at the front of the store. And then I remember. _Oh, shit._

"Fuck. I'm sorry about your window sir. I could work for you, to pay off the damage."

Gipetto nods. "That is agreeable, but you'll have to wait until you heal. You had some pretty nasty gashes on your arms from all that broken glass.

My eyes must be the size of dinner plates right now. _Does he know? Shit, shit, shit! He can't know! He can't fucking know! It'll ruin everything!_

Before I can flip out, Gipetto calms my nerves. "Don't worry, I won't be pressing charges. The manner of your injuries, and the inebriated state I found you in, makes me think that you probably don't want the police involved in this..."

I nod gratefully. "Right. Thank you sir."

I really need a fucking cigarette...But I doubt that's going to happen with Gipetto standing over me like a fucking prison guard.

_Dammit_.

Gipetto sits down in a chair that creaks like an old man's bones. "I have a son like you, Roxas."

Before I can ask him how the fuck he would know anything about me, he presses on.

"His name was Pinoccio. He said he was tired of playing games, that he wanted to be the _real deal_, and that he couldn't do that if he stayed here. Pinoccio wanted a place to belong...I can't say as I blame him, because everyone needs a place to belong, but I hope that he finds it soon. Last I heard, he was in Pleasure Island, but I haven't heard from him since."

"I'm sorry to hear that, sir. I really am. But what the _fuck_ does that have to do with me?"

Gipetto's eyes harden. "You have the same look in your eyes as he did when he left:_ lost._ You've lost yourself, boy, and you would do well to find the person you want to be quickly. And I'll thank you for refraining from using such language in my presence again—I didn't call the police out of respect for you, and I would appreciate the same courtesy.

"Sorry." I answer, hating the way he fucking scolds me. Damn him.

I reach up to rub the crust out of my eyes, noticing the bandages on my arms for the first time. "Did you do this?"

Gipetto nods. "I work in the ER down at the hospital as a nurse part time." he gestures to the shop around him. "This carpentry thing is just a hobby."

I flex my fingers. "Oh. Well, I seem to be in working order, so if it's all the same to you, I'd like to get started on paying off my debt. I'm not a huge fan of being indebted to others."

Gipetto cracks a sad smile. "You're just like him..." he whispers, and I don't think he intends for me to hear him. "Alright then. Let's get to work."

_*****13*****_

Three days in, I realize that carpentry is hard work.

Rough work.

Tiring work.

But, it makes me feel a shitload better, knowing that soon, I'll be free of my debt. It's been three days since Gipetto scraped me off the sidewalk, and Naminé's called me at least fifty times since then.

I haven't answered her though. I'm doing what I have to do to keep her safe and happy. It fucking kills me to do it, but if this is what needs to be done to make double fucking sure that she has a happy life, that this is what I'm going to do.

It's that simple.

Once we've finished our work for the day, Gipetto asks me to sit down with him.

"Yes?" I ask. Maybe he has some more work for me to do.

"You have a strong heart, my boy." The old man says, poking me in the chest, which is irritating as hell. "You're welcome here any time, and you can consider your debt to me squared after all your hard work these past few days."

I nod. "Thank you, sir."

"A word of advice?" Gipetto presses on without waiting for my consent—not that I would have denied him. "My son misunderstood what it meant to be the _real deal_. He thinks that being 'real' is cutting loose and doing what he wants when he wants. But it isn't. Being 'real' comes from the ability to be honest with oneself, to be able to look in the mirror at the end of the day and be proud of yourself. So I want you to ask yourself: 'Are you 'real' Roxas?"

Gipetto leaves me to ponder his words without saying goodbye.

_Dammit_. I hate these kinds of questions.

But, even though I hate to admit it, he's right.

I haven't been very honest with myself lately—especially not where Naminé is concerned. I really do love her, that magnetic connection we have, the reason I feel like my heart's been ripped to sheds and burned—it's because I left her.

Xion plays a role in that too, though.

I should've been strong enough to save her.

I should have been fast enough to be there for her when she needed me.

But I wasn't.

And now, I might lose Naminé too.

I whip out my phone and dial Naminé's number, but she doesn't pick up. After the third attempt goes to voicemail, I switch gears and call Sora. Maybe he'll have some idea what's going on.

I can hear his shit-eating grin when he picks up. "Hey Roxas! It's good to hear from you, we've all been really worried about you after what happened."

"Look, have you guys heard from Naminé? I need to talk to her, but she isn't answering her phone." Cut to the chase. I don't have time to shoot the shit right now.

"Hmm. I haven't heard anything, let me give you to Kairi. Hold on." The sound of shuffling feet precedes Sora's announcement as he passes the phone to Kairi. "It's Roxas."

"Hi Roxas, how are you?" Kairi's almost as cheerful as Sora.

"I'm fine. Have you heard anything from Naminé? I need to talk to her, but she's not picking up her phone. It's really important."

"She _beep_ this morning. She didn't say any_ beep_ about where she was _beep_, she just left." Kairi's response is interrupted by the 'incoming call' tone on my phone.

It can wait.

"What did you say?"

"I said: 'she left this morning. She didn't say anything about where she was going, she just left. I'll let her know that you called if I hear from her, alright?" Kairi offers.

"Thanks. I have another call on the line, so I have to go. Talk to you later, Kairi."

"Bye." The line goes dead and I look at my phone.

The missed call was from Naminé.

_Shit!_

She's left a message, and I don't waste any time in listening to it. It's a little hard to decipher, because Naminé's bawling as she talks into the receiver, but I manage.

_"Roxas...It's Naminé...I just wanted to...apologize. I never got the chance to tell you I loved you...I'm so sorry. So, so sorry. G-goodbye, Roxas."_

It sounds more like a suicide note than a message, so I try calling her again.

She doesn't answer.

Which means that everyone I cared about is dead.

I have nothing to live for.

And suddenly, the massive spire of the clock tower is calling to me.

Quick.

Painless.

Easy.

Now I'll get to be with all my friends in the afterlife.

I say good-bye to Gipetto, and then head for the clock tower without packing my things; I'm sure Gipetto will find a good home for them—he seems like a nice guy.

I floor the gas pedal and race across town to the clock tower.

I can't wait to see everyone again.

**That's all for now folks! Don't forget to Review!**

**We'll get to find out what Naminé has been up to in the next few chapters, and then...well, I won't spoil it. Stay tuned!**

**~Script**


	16. Blood on the Canvas

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Really.**

**Wow. You guys are incredible! Thanks for all the reviews! Please keep it up!**

**We finally get to see what Naminé has been up to since Roxas left...hang on tight!**

**Here we go!**

_**Chapter XV: Blood on the Canvas**_

_** Naminé**_

Roxas is gone.

His absence is crushing—like a huge, ragged hole blown through the middle of my life. Like a piece of my soul has been violently torn away.

I'm drowning in my own misery, burning alive in my own personal hell. I'm trying not to, for my parents' sake, but it's hard.

Kairi and Sora have been incredibly supportive, but even though their friendship is immensely helpful, it doesn't bring Roxas back.

That's the worst part.

Roxas is my anchor.

My rock.

My lifeline.

My almost-but-not-quite-boyfriend.

He makes life bearable, keeps me sane.

And now he's _gone_.

I've never felt so abandoned, never been so scared for someone else's safety in all my life. It's awful.

I can't eat.

I can't _think_.

And what little sleep I can get is plagued by nightmares—tonight is no different.

_*****13*****_

_ The ambulance rig reeks of antiseptic and old blood—you can never really wash that smell out._

_ Riku catches my eyes over the empty gurney between us. "We'll be alright." He mouths; it's hard to hear him over the wail of the sirens and the rain crashing on the windshield._

_ I nod like I believe him. _

_ But really, I know, we're heading into—as Roxas would say—deep shit._

_ When you're headed to a Mass Casualty Incident like the one that's been blowing up the radio for the past hour, there's only one question that matters: How many can we save?_

_ The rig slows, and the sirens die, and then I realize that we're the first on-scene, because there aren't any other sirens or lights flashing through the windshield. That means that we're instant-in-command, that we automatically are responsible for the scene of the accident and taking care of the patients._

_ Riku looks at me again. "I've got it." He says quietly, and I know what he means: he'll take responsibility for the scene, instead of placing the burden on me. _

_ I nod gratefully, and then take a deep breath and roll my shoulders._

_ I can feel it now, the heart-stopping shock-surge of adrenaline that always comes before I go to work on-scene. I put it to work and shove the door open, stepping out into the sheeting rain that soaks me to the bone in seconds._

_ I take in the scene in an instant, and all I can think is: _What?

_ Roxas is coughing up blood._

_ His skin is pale and ashen, and smeared with gore, his hair is matted by the torrential downpour._

_ This is wrong._

_ This is all wrong._

_ Xion is supposed to be where Roxas is, but apparently, the universe hasn't gotten the memo, because he's here, coughing and choking on his own fluids._

_ A jet of crimson escapes his mouth, splattering against my face, but I don't wipe it off._

_ "I-I'm sorry Naminé." Roxas' voice is a hoarse whisper, ragged and raw from his coughing. Blood dribbles from one corner of his mouth. _

_ "Shh. You have nothing to be sorry for. Don't try to talk, save your strength." My brain burns with frenetic calculations, confirming what I already know: Roxas isn't going to make it._

_ "But I do." Roxas gurgles and coughs out another crimson spurt. "I wasn't strong enough to save her; and now I've ruined your life too...I don't expect you forgive me...Just...Let me go." _

_ No, no no!_

_ It isn't supposed to be like this._

_ Roxas isn't supposed to die before I get to tell him how I feel. It's not fair!_

_ "I can't Roxas. I love you too much to give up on you."_

_ The light in Roxas' eyes fades. "I'm sorry-" And then his eyes close and his body goes slack._

_ My eyes burn, and my tears mingle with the rain on his cheeks._

_*****13*****_

The alarm jerks me back to reality, and the scream that tears from my throat makes me glad that I'm staying in the loft.

Being an artist has its merits, and my parents respect my bursts of _inspiration_, and they give me my space.

Shaking off the nasty residual images from the dream, I immediately reach for my sketchbook and pencil.

Roxas has his cigarettes, and I have my sketchbook.

My pencil scrapes across the page, the thin harsh lines eventually morph into the very face that's been haunting my dreams for the past two days, the one I've been trying to avoid.

Roxas.

"Dammit!" I'm not one given to profanity, but the epithets that Roxas frequently used are the only physical remnants I have of him, save for the lighter and half a pack of cigarettes he left on my nightstand when he stayed with me—thank God my parents didn't see those.

I tried one, just to see if it would help me cope, but I ended with my head in the toilet for the better part of an hour.

Won't be doing that again...

The sketchbook hits the wall on the other side of the room, and I snatch my cell phone from the floor. I dial Roxas' number instinctively, but it goes straight to voicemail.

It's like getting punched in the gut by a prize fighter wearing brass knuckles, but I can't say that I'm surprised. I've called him at least fifty times, but he hasn't answered me at all—I haven't left any messages, because I can't figure out what to say to him.

I roll out of bed and shower in the closet-sized bathroom—I _have_ to go to school today; I've already missed two days, if I skip again, the school is going to call my parents.

I dry myself off and get dressed, trying not to look around the room.

_Shit_.

Yep, Roxas has definitely corrupted me; can't say that I mind though.

I've turned my sanctuary into the prison my mind has been trying to escape since Roxas left—a world where I can't touch him.

How's that for a fucking metaphor?

_*****13*****_

The car trip form the loft to school is mercifully short—too short to get distracted from the emotional turmoil and sleeplessness to drive into a pole.

I'm automatically scanning the crowd for Sora or Kairi, but a text message tells me they'll both be absent for today; apparently they're taking a mental health day.

Whatever that means.

I can feel a set of eyes burning into the back of my skull, and the distinct scent of Riku's body spray chokes me.

"Leave me alone, Riku." I don't even need to look at him.

"Aw, come on, baby girl. Don't be like that..." His voice is smooth, seductive, the kind that makes most girls go week in the knees.

But I'm not most girls. I round on him—and flinch back at the sight of his face.

Riku's nose has a ridiculous-looking bandage on it, his eyes are sunken, rimmed by deep purplish-bruises. His lips are incredibly swollen, like he's just gone three rounds with Rocky Balboa, and the he's curled to his left side over the ribs Roxas kicked.

"You look like hell." I snap, and he chuckles.

"It's your fault. Cambridge fucked me up because of you. I'm here to collect on my debt."

"Fuck off, dickwad." I sneer, unable to fight the smirk that crosses my lips. _Thanks for the vocabulary update Roxas._ The beginnings of tears prick at the corners of my eyes at the memory.

Riku presses me up against a locker, and I realize as his hand wanders up my thigh, that the hallways are empty.

"So beautiful." Riku whispers.

I struggle, but he's so _strong_. His hands caress my breasts, and I burn with rage. Riku has me pinned, but he's clearly not counting on another student walking by for a mid-class bathroom break.

"Hey...What the hell are you doing?" Thank heavens for Selphie. She's standing in the middle of the hallway, with the unnecessarily thick wooden hall pass clutched tightly in her hand.

This is my chance.

"_Let go of me, you bastard!_" I snarl at Riku.

His mouth drops open, and then _he_ drops to the floor when Selphie clocks him with the hall pass. The wood impacts against his skull with a sickening _thwack_.

"Thanks," I toss over my shoulder as I sprint down the hallway. I need to get out, need to get away _now_.

This was a mistake.

The drive from school back to the loft takes a lot less time than getting to school in the first place—but I have adrenaline to thank for that.

My experience, coupled with the fact that I've been drawing nothing but Roxas for two days is too much.

As soon as I shut the door behind me, it's raining buckets on my head and the wail of the sirens blocks out everything else. I can feel my legs weakening, and I cross the room in an awkward stumble, hoping to reach my bed before they give out.

I lunge for the cushions, but my aim is off, and I tackle an easel to the ground as it all goes black.

Aw, shit.

_*****13*****_

_ I shove open the doors to the ambulance rig and I'm faced with...hell._

_ It's pouring down rain, but that does nothing to douse the flames._

_ Xion's laying motionless in a pool of her own blood, the entire right side of her body, from her hair down to the tips of her toes, she's unrecognizable._

_ Roxas is staggering around completely engulfed in flames. He's screaming and flailing, and there's this horrible brown smoke rolling off him, he drops to the ground rolling pitifully to smother the flames._

_ I get there and I already know he isn't going to make it._

_ "I'm sorry..." His voice is a cracked whisper. "I was just trying to protect you."_

_ "Shh. Don't try to talk, save your strength...protect me from what?"_

_ Roxas raises a shaking finger to point at something behind me. "That." With a surge of strength, Roxas rolls us so he's on top._

_ And that's when I see it._

_ Riku's standing over me with a can of gasoline in one hand, and a lighter in the other. "Do you love me now?" he sneers._

_ "Go to hell!" The scream that escapes me is primal, raw, fierce._

_ Riku's grin is sick and twisted and evil. "Only if you come with me." and then he empties the can over us._

_ The harsh smell of the gasoline mingles with the smell of burned flesh and hair and the combined stench gags me._

_ No, no, no!_

_ I must be dreaming, because this isn't how it happened._

_ You can't get hurt in a dream right?_

_ Riku locks the lighter in the on position and tosses it onto our huddled forms._

_ My nails dig into my arm and I flicker between reality and hell as the flames explode around us. _

_ I dig deeper as I choke on the fire._

_ Here's hoping._

_*****13*****_

Blood is crusted under my fingernails, and it drips onto the canvas in an interesting pattern. And as I stare the droplets dripping from the gash in my arm, I realize, the pain is easing.

Roxas' absence hurts a little less.

The ragged hole in my chest feels more like it's filled with salt and a little less like it's filled with napalm.

It isn't as good as having Roxas back, but it's a start.

My finger swirls absently through the blood as I widen the cut on my forearm..

Ah.

That's better.

**Hit? Miss? Worried about Naminé? Let me know and Review!**

**Catch you on the flipside.**

**~Script**


	17. Desperate Times, Desperate Measures

**Disclaimer: I _still_ own nothing.**

**Thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed so far, your support has been incredible! Please keep it up!**

**On with the show!**

_**Chapter XVI: Desperate Times, Desperate Measures**_

_** Naminé**_

I don't know how long I've been here, trapped in a prison of my own making.

The newest cut on my arm stings, blood drips onto the canvas, but somehow, that helps to ease the pain. My arms are covered with angry red slashes, carved into my flesh with a razor blade.

No, it isn't normal to do that.

But, it makes Roxas' being gone hurt a little less.

That sick, twisted reality brings me a surreal sense of comfort.

I've tried to call him at least a dozen times since last night, but he isn't answering his phone, and I'm really starting to worry about him.

The canvas on the easel in front of me is smeared with sweeping brushstrokes that somehow manage to twist themselves into the shape of Roxas' face.

_Dammit._

I suppose I shouldn't really be surprised—everything I've drawn in the past twenty-four hours has something to do with Roxas.

A knock at the door keeps me from hurling my newest creation across the room—it hurts too much to look at it.

"Go away!" I'm in no mood to talk to anyone, and the only two people who know I'm here are my parents. Seeing as how their way of solving a problem is to throw money at it until it goes away, I really don't have anything to say to them that doesn't include a whole lot of swearing.

"Naminé, it's Kairi. I'm not leaving until you talk to me...Please let me in."

_Oh._

Besides Roxas, Kairi is the one person who can help me right now. I force myself to get up—not an easy task since I haven't slept in thirty-six hours and the floor is pitching and heaving under my feet.

My wrist twinges painfully as I twist the doorknob. _Oh, shit!_

I have no idea what Kairi's going to say when she sees my wrists, but I can guess that it probably isn't going to be a good thing. But, it's too late now, the door is already opening, and Kairi steps through, shutting it behind her.

"I heard what happened yesterday..." her blue eyes burn with regret as she pulls me into a hug. "I'm sorry I wasn't there. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." I lie, hiding my arm behind my back to hide the fresh cut. She can't see this.

Because she won't get it.

Because she'll have me institutionalized.

Because she doesn't know what it is to have the only person in your life who really _gets_ you ripped away_._

Kairi's eyes widen as she takes in the grisly paintings that litter my studio—a direct result of the worst three days of my entire fucking life.

"What's this?" Kairi makes an all-encompassing gesture.

"Nothing." I snap, crossing my arms. Too late, I realize that the cut on my arm is bleeding on my shirt.

Kairi takes a step forward and pulls my arm away from me. "What's this?" she asks quietly, gently, like I'm made of glass or something.

I don't know why I let her.

"What the _hell_ is this?" Kairi glares at me, her voice hard and sharp, with a clear undercurrent of _don't bullshit me_. Her glower makes me feel like an errant child.

In hindsight, probably would've been a good idea to bandage my arms so that I could have hidden the angry, barely-healed gashes on my forearms, but it's too late to do anything about that now. I look away—the heat of her stare is too intense.

"Sit." Kairi sighs and points to the bed. "I'm going get the first aid kit."

I sink down onto the bed, feeling small and ashamed.

Kairi comes back with the first aid kit, drags the chair from my desk over and sits down across from me. She doesn't say anything, she just starts bandaging my arms. Her motions are deft and gentle and smooth; but her expression becomes more and more severe with each passing second, and despite myself, I'm actually a little scared of what she has to say.

"Naminé..." Kairi begins gently. "We need to talk."

"I don't want to talk about it." It's true. This is a deep, personal experience for me, and I'm going to deal with it in my own way.

"Naminé, I'm not leaving until we talk about this. This isn't safe...I can't leave you here by yourself if you're not going to talk to me. You don't have to talk to me about it, but you have to talk to _someone_."

"No, I don't. I don't _have_ to do anything. This is how I'm dealing with my shit. Why can't you just leave me the fuck alone?"

Kairi's expression hardens, and I know it's because of my language, but, frankly, I don't give a shit. "I'm your friend, Naminé. I've known you your whole life. You're like the little sister I never had, and I love you. I hate to see you hurting, especially when you're doing it to yourself. Let me help you. Please." There are tears in her eyes, and even though I'm a little annoyed at her 'little sister' comment—we're only a year apart—but I know she's genuinely worried about me, and she won't take no for an answer.

I'm still a little leery about telling her exactly what's going on, but what she says next makes it impossible to ignore her.

"How do you think Roxas would feel about this?" Kairi poses.

My will crumbles.

Everything I've been trying so desperately not to think about for the past few days comes rushing back in a hard-hitting, blood-tinged swirl of chaotic images.

"He'd hate it." the words are spilling out of my mouth before I can stop them, and it only gets worse from there.

"I just...I don't know what to _do_. It hurts so much...Roxas-" I choke on his name. "Roxas was the only one who really got it, you know?" I've told Kairi and Sora about the accident, but they don't know anything about Xion—I spared them the gory details. "And now that he's gone...I don't know what to do." The tears are spilling down my cheeks, dripping off my chin, and my heart feels like it's being slowly ripped to shreds.

Kairi pulls me into a hug, and then draws back. "You love him." she says.

It isn't a question.

And even though the thought of him kills me, I can't find it in myself to deny her statement.

"I do." I try the words out for myself. "I love Roxas."

The words are like fire, demanding motion, demanding action, and suddenly I'm off the bed, snatching my car keys and wallet off my dresser.

"Where are you doing?" Kairi wonders.

"Sorry Kairi, I have to go."

Roxas is waiting for me.

_*****13*****_

I've never driven like a maniac.

At least not before now.

I floor the gas pedal and weave in and out of traffic like a crazy person.

_Find Roxas_.

That's my mission.

If I know him like I think I do, he'll probably head to Twilight Town. But I can't just follow him there—he was explicitly clear that he's not planning on seeing me again, and I don't want to scare him off.

I whip out my phone and dial his number when I stop at a red light—just doing that brings tears to my eyes, but these are tears of joy rather than pain.

_I love Roxas._ Those words are the glue that puts the pieces of my heart back together. He doesn't answer his phone, but that doesn't surprise me, I just try to keep my voice under control when I leave my message:

"Roxas...It's Naminé..." Relax. Breathe. "I just wanted to...apologize. I never got the chance to tell you I loved you...I'm so sorry. So, so sorry. G-goodbye, Roxas." I snap the phone shut before I can give myself away, the last thing I want to do is warn him that I'm coming.

The light flicks back to green and the world washes away in a rush of engine noise and desparation.

_Don't worry, Roxas. I'm coming._

_*****13*****_

I search Twilight Town for hours.

The ice-cream shop.

The mall.

Even the train station.

But everywhere I look turns out empty. I'm just about to give up when I realize that there's one place I haven't tried yet; and it's also the most likely place to find Roxas:

_The clock tower._

I burn rubber across town and screech into the tower's parking lot. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see Roxas' car, and I waste no time in heading inside.

"Have you seen Roxas?" I ask the man at the desk.

The man nods. "He went up a few hours ago, looked pretty bad."

I toss a thank you over my shoulder, and then sprint for the maintenance corridor, hoping, _praying _that my memory is accurate.

The elevator creaks upward, impossibly slow, and I feel like I'm about to lose my mind when the doors finally slide open at the top.

I take in the scene in a split second:

Roxas is poised on the edge of the clock tower, staring down over the precipice. He sways dangerously on his feet, leaning forward over the drop.

A little further and he's done for.

"Roxas, wait!" I shout before I can help myself.

Roxas flinches, and for one terrible second, I'm afraid that he's going to fall, but he recovers and takes a step back.

He turns, and I almost cringe at the sight of him.

Roxas' face is gaunt and sallow; his eyes are sunken and dead, rimmed by red flesh and agony.

He gives me a soft, warm smile, and all traces of pain are gone from his face.

"Hello, Naminé."

**Hit? Miss? Review!**

**I know, I know, I'm awful for the cliffhanger. Stay tuned!**

**See you next chapter!**

**~Script**


	18. Reunion

**Disclaimer: If you don't know by now, see the last sixteen chapters.**

**A huge thank-you goes out to everyone who has reviewed/favorited this story over the course of the last few months! Your support has been absolutely wonderful! Thanks everybody!**

**On with the show!**

_**Chapter XVII: Reunion**_

_** Roxas  
**_

Reality is a lie.

The flashbacks come hard and fast and furious, and I'm drowning in replays of my fucked-up life.

_ "It hurts, Roxas." Xion says weakly, and then she coughs, splattering my face with blood._

_ "I know it does, babe. I know. But we're gonna get help. Just you wait and see."_

No amount of drugs or alcohol will ever erase that memory. I surface from the real-life nightmare, my pulse ragged in my ears. I don't even have time to catch my breath before I'm sucked into the next one.

_The bus explodes as the gasoline vapors ignite; the sound is incredible. There's fire everywhere and it's hot, so unbearably fucking hot that I can feel my skin tighten and Axel's screaming and there's this awful smell, like burning flesh._

_ Axel staggers forward I look up at him._

_ He's on fire._

_ Literally._

_ His jersey is burning, and his hair and his skin, and this horrible brownish smoke is coming off of him, and that's all I have time to see before I'm soaked by a spray of cold water and go sprawling to the ground._

I want to be sick, but I haven't eaten anything for the past day and a half, so all I can do is dry-heave miserably. The contractions of my stomach are violent, hellish things, I can feel blood vessels rupturing behind my eyes from the pressure, but my guts don't stop trying to turn themselves inside out.

I'm almost glad when the madness takes me again.

_ Her gravestone stares back at me, her birthday and date of death mocking me for my failure._

_ My parents had spared no expense for her tombstone—it is a black marble square lined with gold leaf around the lettering._

_ I lay the flowers down in front of it, hoping that wherever she is, she'll like them. There's a lump in my throat and suddenly I'm choking out a sob, tears dripping off my chin, heart being slowly shredded as I look at the epitaph.:_

_ **Xion Cambridge**_

_**March 21, 1997- April 7, 2010**_

_**Daughter—Sister—Friend**_

_**Rest in Peace, Beloved One **_

_I tear my eyes away from the stone—it makes me sick to my fucking core that she died so young, that I couldn't be there for her when she needed me the most. _

Time ceases to have any meaning.

There's only the endless/instant heartbeats and raw, ragged breaths to count between this hell and the next.

Somewhere between puking up a wad of phlegm and trying to stem the flow of blood from my nose, I gather my feet under me. I stagger toward the edge.

Toward the end.

I don't want to feel anymore...

Anything's better than this.

"_Yeah, that's right folks. Roxas fucking Cambridge is a student here, the sole survivor of the bus accident that killed his entire basketball team. What do you have to say for yourself Roxas?"_

_ My fist snaps out reflexively, and the feel of his nose breaking under the blow isn't nearly as satisfying as it should be._

_ Because everyone is giving me the look_

_ Why you and not them?_

_ What makes you so special?_

_ Why do you get to live?_

_ "Killer!" Someone shouts, and then it becomes a fucking mantra, and the whole cafeteria is chanting it, and my world is crashing down around my ears._

_ And I feel like a complete fucking moron, because now two tenants of my code are down the fucking toilet, and I have no one to blame but myself for my misery—I invented the code so this could be avoided._

_ Shit lot of good that did me._

_ And now Naminé's in the middle of it all, and it's all my fucking fault._

_ She's looking at me like she's about to cry, and I can't tell whether it's from pity or fear, but it doesn't really matter, because I'm never going to bother her again._

_ I've fucked up enough lives, caused the death and suffering of too many people to watch it spread to her now too.,_

_ "Roxas, don't listen to them!" Naminé says, shouting to be heard over the noise._

_ I feel like I've just been fucking stabbed—I'm sick to my stomach, and my heart aches. This is why I promised myself I wouldn't get attached. Because when shit like this goes down, I don't want anyone else to be dragged into the middle of it either._

_ But, there's a small chance—it really is pretty fucking miniscule—that if I leave, maybe the shitstorm will follow me, and Naminé can be happy again._

_ I'd rather that, than have her suffer because of my mistakes. _

_ Because I'm a glutton for punishment, I lean down and kiss Naminé's forehead. "I'm sorry I got you involved in all this. I didn't mean to fuck up your life or anything; so I'm going to go now. I'm not coming back, so you don't have to worry about me ruining anything anymore. I hope that someday you can forgive me for all the pain I've caused you..." I let out a long sigh, and wipe the tears from Naminé's face with my thumbs._

_ "Please don't cry. It's better this way, you'll see..." I tell her, and I mean it. She's openly bawling now, and I turn away because I can't handle that shit._

_ Because if I look at her, I'm gonna lose it too. This kills me as much as it's killing her, but I don't have a choice in the matter._

The latest memory hits me like a hammer, almost driving me over the edge. I teeter on the precipice, exhausted as fuck, and almost too weak to stand. I have nothing left to give, not even the strength to take the step that will put me out of my fucking misery.

The access door to the roof creaks open, and despite myself, I turn around, only to get a hot knife through my heart for my trouble.

Naminé's standing in the doorway, her eyes rimmed by tired red flesh. Her forearms are bandaged, but there's blood soaking through, and I know that this has to be another hallucination, because she was fine when I left and dead people can't get hurt.

That would just be the icing on the fucking cake if something happened to her because I left.

Her blonde hair whips in the wind, her blue eyes piercing.

"Roxas, wait!" Naminé lunges for me, but I take a small step back—if I let her touch me, it's all over.

In a way, I guess this is the best thing I could've hoped for, even though it's not actually happening—I get to see Naminé one more time before I die.

"Hello, Naminé." I say. "I have something to tell you."

"What?" Naminé shuffles forward, one hand outstretched.

"I love you." There, I said it. "I'm sorry we couldn't be together in real life, Naminé. But don't worry, we'll be together again soon."

"What are you talking about, Roxas? I'm right here." Naminé spreads her arms.

"You're not real though." I contradict her, feeling a little guilty for raining on her parade.

Tears drip off Naminé's chin—which is odd, because hallucinations can't feel anything. She reaches down and peels the bandages off her forearms.

Angry red slashes crisscross her pale flesh as she stares at me.

_This is real?_ I don't know what to make of it—I'm too stunned to say anything.

Naminé steps forward and pulls me away from the edge; I let her have her fun for the moment. "Is this real enough for you, Roxas?" she wonders acerbically. Blood weeps from the wounds. "I love you, too Roxas. Don't do this to me, to us. Don't you see? We can have a life together." Naminé presses her face into my chest and wraps her arms around me with a desperate strength.

_This is actually fucking happening..._ I realize, and I'm not sure whether to be over-the-moon, or extremely pissed off.

"I love you, Roxas. You mean the world to me; my life is pointless if you're not in it. I need you. Please come home..._please_." Naminé releases me and takes a step back. "I don't care what anyone else thinks. I just want to be with you."

Her words are like knives stabbing me, and I realize the gravity of what I've done to her, and that knowledge almost has me leaping over the edge to prevent myself from causing her anymore grief.

"Before you decide what you want to do, I need to tell you something. It's really important..." Naminé's thin shoulders are heaving and shuddering and she wipes her eyes on the sleeve of her white sweatshirt.

"I...I was with Xion when she died. She wanted me to tell you that she loved you Roxas. That was the last thing she said to me; she wanted to make sure you knew that she thought you were the best brother anyone could ask for, and even though she never got the chance to tell you, she used the last of her strength to make sure you got the message."

_What?_

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you before...I was waiting for the right time, and then you left and I didn't have the chance to tell you."

I don't have words for what I'm feeling. "Thank you for telling me." I say, more out of reflex than anything else.

The starch leaves my knees and I'm tumbling over backwards, most likely to my death.

And the sad part is: I'm not sure how I feel about that.

"_Roxas!_" Naminé lunges and seize the fabric of my shirt and pulls me to her. Then, before I even have a chance to thank her, she goes up on her tip-toes, and kisses me.

The way her lips met mine is chaotic.

Desperate.

Feral.

Raw.

And it's also the most wildly passionate kiss I could ever have imagined—every nerve ending in my brain is on fire and the universe of pain drops away.

Reality is a lie.

Corporeal matter is fiction.

There are no physics.

Space/Time Continuum or Theories of Relativity.

There is the law of me and her.

Roxas and Naminé.

Naminé and Roxas.

The fundamental reality of my guilt and responsibility for Xion's death shatters into a million pieces and then reforms into a diamond-hard, razor-sharp edge that cuts through the web of lies I've been weaving myself into for the past six months, freeing me, opening my eyes to a newer, firmer, better truth: _Naminé is my life_.

She's my guardian angel.

My savior.

My lover.

The smile that parts my lips feels better than anything in the world as I come up for air, linking my hands with hers.

Just that one small touch makes life seem not-quite-so-shitty, and it only gets better from there. We lean into each other, living, breathing, _being_, until Naminé looks up at me. She's breathing ragged and starry-eyed, but her voice is still as beautiful as a chorus of angels.

"Roxas...Let's go home."

I don't even have to think about my answer. "Okay."

**Like it? Hate it? Review and let me know!**

**See you next chapter!**

**~Script**


	19. Defecation, Oscillation, You do the Math

**Disclaimer: Really? You mean you don't already know that Kingdom Hearts isn't mine?**

**For shame.**

**First of all, I'd like to thank everyone who has reviewed/favorited this story so far, your support is very much appreciated!**

**On with the show!**

_**Chapter XVIII: Defecation, Oscillation; You do the Math**_

_** Naminé**_

My world is back on its axis.

I'm floating, lost in a swirl of my own chaotic emotions, drowning in a rush of endorphins.

Yeah.

Roxas just said he _loved _me.

Our fingers are weaved together, and they fit together perfectly, and Roxas rests his chin on top of my head as we ride down in the elevator. I think I might be a little high on the fact that we're touching, the rush of pleasure from that is _unbelievable_ and I don't ever want this feeling to end.

I don't let go of Roxas' hand until I absolutely _have _to—it almost kills me when I realize that we drove separate cars to get here. The blitzed-out-of-my-skull-on-passion feeling dissipates somewhat, but it doesn't completely disappear.

My teeth saw into my bottom lip; I'm nervous, even though I know I have no reason to be. "Roxas?"

Roxas turns to me, his eye full of life despite his haggard appearance. "Yeah?"

"Will you stay with me tonight?" I look away, unable to bear the short eternity of silence as he debates his answer.

I don't need to worry though, Roxas leans down and kisses my cheek, and I feel silly for even entertaining the notion that he might reject me.

"Of course."

Despite myself, I breathe a quiet sigh of relief before realizing that I can't go home just yet—I need to clear the air with my parents first.

"Do you mind coming to my studio with me first? I need to pick up some things." I don't want to leave my dirty clothes in the loft, and I feel that Roxas has a right to see my newest pieces of artwork. He's probably going to—as he would say—flip his shit when he sees them, but I need him to understand how badly I need him.

"No problem." Roxas replies, and I feel at once relieved and terrified. He slides behind the wheel of his car and nods to me. "See you there."

My heart flutters, and I nod. "O-okay."

_Stupid hormones. _I wrestle my voice back under control. "Do you know how to get to the studio from here?" It comes out more smoothly, but I can't completely get rid of the hitch.

Roxas shakes his head. "Nope."

"It's pretty easy, just follow me.", I slide behind the wheel of my car, clutching the steering wheel in a death-grip to hide the fact that I'm shaking.

It's too late to go back on my suggestion, and even if I could, that would just worry Roxas more—and to be completely honest, after what we've both just been through, I don't think either of us can handle that kind of stress.

My heart beat pounds in my ears, harsh and ragged as the engine of my white Civic purrs to life. The vice of fear squeezing my heart tightens until I remind myself that _Roxas loves me_, but that doesn't stop me from questioning my decision.

_What the hell am I doing?_

_*****13*****_

My hand is trembling when I reach for the doorknob, and it rattles slightly, I hope Roxas doesn't notice.

The hammering of my heart spikes when I open the door, and my stomach clenches in dread. My inner sanctum, the room that has been my prison for the past seven days is revealed, and it looks a little less morbid in the light of day.

But only a little.

My paintings are thrown into sharp relief when I flick the lights on, and even _I_ cringe at some of them.

"What the fuck?" Roxas wonders quietly; I don't think he means for me to hear him. And then, in a louder tone: "Is this what you wanted to show me?"

"Yes. I'm sorry if it scares you, but these paintings are what I dreamed about after you left. I had to get them out onto the canvas so I could go back to sleep." I explain, tugging on my sleeve to cover the red slashes on my arms when Roxas' eyes stray to the reddish-brown smears of dried blood.

"It's alright." he says after a long moment. "Is this...your blood?"

Shame rips through me and I turn away from him, unable to stand his piercing stare. I can't bring myself to lie to him. "Yes."

Roxas whirls on me, his eyes blazing. "What the _fuck_ were you thinking Naminé?" He demands. "You could have killed yourself! You could have fucking _died_."

"I know that!" I snap back. I don't mean to yell, but that's how it comes out. "But I didn't know if you were alive either—you didn't pick up your phone or return any of my calls. You just_ left_. You fucking left me Roxas! You have no idea what kind of shit I've been dealing with since you've been gone!" The words are coming in a rush now, and I can tell by the way Roxas flinches when I remind him of his actions that I'm hurting him, and I want so desperately to take it back, but I can't.

What's done is done.

Roxas rakes a hand through his hair and blows out a long, world-weary sigh. "I'm sorry." he says finally. "I know I've been a dick lately...I just...I didn't know what to do. I promised myself that I wouldn't get attached so that I could leave if things got shitty. But then, I met you. I had no clue how hard I'd fallen for you until Riku started up with his shit that day." His lips twist into a scowl and he turns away.

I ache to reach out and touch him and ease his pain, but Roxas shifts away from my touch.

"When he outed me, and everyone started calling me a killer, all I could think about was protecting you. So, I left. I thought that the trouble might follow me, and you could be happy if you weren't constantly being reminded of the accident."

I'm glad he's explaining things, but that doesn't make the memory of his absence any less painful. "I asked you not to go..." I point out.

"I know...but I thought I was doing what was best for you." Roxas admits, staring at the floor.

"Dammit. Why does everyone feel like they need to decide what's best for me instead of letting me think for myself? I'm a big girl—I can make my own decisions, I don't need you to think for me." Some of my monologue is directed at Roxas, but mostly, I'm just fed up with people treating me that way in general.

"I'm sorry." Roxas says again. "For everything."

"It's okay. I forgive you." Forgiving Roxas isn't a decision; it's a reflex. "And I'm sorry if I scared you earlier. But, I want you to promise me something."

"Anything." Roxas replies almost immediately.

"Let's never be apart again." I look him dead in the eyes, trying to tell him exactly how important this is to me. "We need each other—I think we've done a pretty good job of proving that over the past few days. So let's stick together."

Roxas grins. "I'll be here for as long as you'll have me."

I stretch up to kiss him then, slow and sweet and loving, and the world doesn't seem like such an awful place.

Roxas kisses back, sending a thrill through my body.

It's ecstasy.

Or, it should be.

Before I drown in the wave of ragged need and heat and lust, one last thought flickers through my brain, unwelcome, but true all the same.

_Things are going to well_.

I've gotten Roxas back, and being apart has done nothing but good for our relationship. It's perfect.

Too perfect.

I do my best to ignore it and enjoy the moment, but the doubt is relentless, niggling at the back of my skull.

I feel like the floor is about to drop out from under me...But at least I know Roxas will catch me if it does.

_*****13*****_

_** Roxas**_

Naminé meets me by the window.

I climb through the window silent as the fucking grave, because her parents aren't my biggest fans, and I don't want to strain their relationship...Naminé doesn't need that shit on top of everything else.

Naminé leans into my chest and wraps her arms around my middle, squeezing just hard enough that it gets a little difficult to breathe. "I missed you." she says, pressing her lips to the soft flesh where my jaw meets my neck. Her soft, smooth, supple flesh of her lips trace a path along my jawline to meet my lips.

My body responds immediately and I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her closer, reveling in the way she fits against me.

Fire burns in my veins; not anger—_passion_.

If someone were to tell me, right now, that I only have ten seconds left to live, I wouldn't move from this spot. Because all I can think is:

_Fuck, this kiss is amazing._

And it is. It's also pretty fucking disappointing when we pull apart—apparently, both of us have forgotten to breathe.

I stare into her eyes for a long moment as I catch my breath.

And then, Naminé pulls me closer and mashes her lips against mine in a burst of short, sharp kisses. "Shirt. Off." Her voice is almost a growl as she whispers breathlessly between kisses. Naminé's fingers hook around the hem and she pulls it up over my head and tosses it on the floor.

I don't know what the fuck's gotten into her, but I'm certainly not _complaining_.

Her teeth nip at my bottom lip as she sinks back onto her bed; my fingers grip the hem of her t-shirt.

I pull back from her to catch my breath and her fingers wrap over mine and she pulls off her shirt.

I blink. _Holy shit..._

White lace is sexy as hell on her. I have to wrench my eyes away from her breasts, but she just smiles up at me and reaches for the button on my jeans.

_Fuck..._I want her so badly, but I know I can't let this happen.

Not right now.

Not with everything we've been through.

I realize that Naminé is just looking for an escape—something to take her mind off the horrible things she's had to experience in the last week. If we do this, now, she's going to regret it for the rest of her life.

It's not that I don't _want _to.

I just don't want our first time to be an escape; I want it to mean something.

"Wait," It kills me to say it.

Naminé jerks back like she's been stung, rejection etched on her face.

Her expression makes me feel like complete shit.

"What?" Naminé wonders, and then answers her own question. "You don't want me..." she concludes.

"No!" I blurt, and then her expression twists, and I have to scramble to keep myself from fucking up again. "It's not that...Fuck—I want you so _much..._I just don't want our first time to happen like this." I admit. "We've both been through some heavy shit in the last week. I just want to make sure that when it happens, we're both ready and we're both in a stable enough emotional state that it'll mean something—if we do it now, it's just gonna be a fucked-up one-night-stand." I explain, before realizing my mistake.

"Shit, I didn't mean to come across like I didn't love you; you mean the world to me Naminé. It's just..." I can't find the words, and I'm worried that I'm jumping to conclusions and she's going to be furious with me.

Thankfully, I don't have to worry.

"I understand." Naminé says, kissing me gently, which doesn't help my restraint _at all_. "Thank you for stopping me. I needed to hear that." She crawls under the covers without bothering to put her shirt back on. "Lay with me, Roxas."

_Yes ma'am. _I crawl under the covers next to her and Naminé rests her head on my chest and makes herself comfortable on top of me—she's light as a feather, almost alarmingly so.

I wrap an arm around her, holding her close, and then sleep takes me.

_*****13*****_

"What the _hell _is _he _doing here?" A loud, masculine voice demands.

My eyes snap open and the situation becomes immediately, painfully clear.

A big, muscular man with short blonde hair and intense blue eyes framed by glasses stands in the doorway. He must be Naminé's father.

_Oh, shit_...That knowledge brings a whole host of other fears with it when I realize what he must be seeing.

Naminé I laying on top of me.

Both of us are shirtless.

And, the blankets cover us from the waist down.

_We're fucked_...

Naminé snaps awake in the same instant that I realize all of this, and she doesn't waste any time in coming to my rescue. "This isn't what it looks like." She says hastily, rolling off of me to retrieve her shirt.

"The hell it isn't!" her father roars.

"Just let me explain!" Naminé huffs as she pulls her shirt over her head.

"You don't have to _explain_ anything, Naminé. This is your life, and if you want to sleep with some street thug and piss your life away, then so be it. But it isn't going to happen in my house. Get out."

I want to jump in and tell Naminé's father exactly how fucking unfair he's being, but I know it won't do anything. He's giving me _the look_ and I know that anything I say will go in one ear and out the other.

"Fine!" Naminé's voice is like ice. Without another word, she fishes a duffel bag out of her closet and starts methodically shoving her belongings into it until her dresser is empty. She zips the bag shut with too much force and slings it casually over her shoulder before taking my hand.

"Come on, Roxas, we're leaving." She starts for the door.

"Naminé wait..." Her father looks pained.

Out of the kindess of her heart—at least that's what I think it is, Naminé pauses.

"I don't have a problem with you having a boyfriend. I _want_ you to have one. Just not _him_. He killed a lot of people in that accident, Naminé. A boy with that kind of reckless disregard for life; the kind who gets drunk and murders his entire high school basketball team, and _somehow_ manages to walk away from it all scott-free, has no business anywhere near my daughter."

Rage boils in my blood at his accusations, but I bite my tongue when Naminé squeezes my hand hard enough to make the bones creak.

"You don't know shit about him." Naminé snaps and starts for the door again.

Her father moves to block her exit. "If—"

Naminé isn't hearing it though. "Get out of my way." she brushes past him, grabbing her keys off her dresser as she does so.

"The car's in my name!" Her father calls after us.

Naminé tosses the keys over her shoulder. "Keep it, then." Her tone is coldly indifferent.

"You don't have anywhere to go!" Her father is desperate now.

Naminé stops and turns around. "Fuck you. You don't get to pretend that you care about me after what you said about Roxas." She snarls and then she's pulling me down the stairs and past her mother who's sitting at the kitchen table, eating her breakfast like nothing's happening.

"Where are you going?" the woman wonders.

"I'm getting the hell out of here." Naminé replies.

Her mother doesn't make a move to stop us.

So, we don't stop.

We get in the car and drive.

We don't have a plan.

We don't have a destination.

We don't have any money.

But, we have each other.

And for now, that's enough.

**Hit? Miss? Review and let me know what you think!**

**See you all next chapter, and thank you for all your support!**

**~Script**


	20. Finding Home

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Thanks to everyone for your reviews/favorites, I'm glad everyone is enjoying the story so far!**

**On with the show!**

_**Chapter XIX: Finding Home**_

_** Roxas**_

__The sense of freedom is in-fucking-credible.

It was a ballsy move, on Naminé's part, walking out on her parents with nothing but the clothes on her back and the change in her pocket.

But, I can tell by the shit-eating grin on her face that she doesn't regret it in the slightest.

I think we're both kind of stoned on our own courage; but in the back of my mind, I know that we're shit out of luck if I can't find a job.

Naminé leans over from the passenger seat and presses a gentle kiss into the side of my neck. "I love you." she whispers, trailing her lips over the soft flesh, licking and nipping and sucking.

_Damn..._I'm not about to complain—but the fact of the matter is, her kisses are really fucking distracting...

I angle my face away—the desire to kiss her completely fucking senseless right then and there is almost irresistible, and giving in is not an option while I'm driving.

"Sorry, driving..." I offer. It's shitty excuse, I know, but it's really the only thing I can think to say at the moment.

Naminé gives me a sultry pout in response, and I have to force myself to focus on the road.

I haven't been paying attention to where I'm going, but I realize that I'm headed toward Twilight Town, and then it hits me that I never picked up my shit from Gipetto's place, and that's when everything starts to fall into place.

If Gipetto's still looking for help, I might be able to get a job with him...

Sounds like a plan.

_*****13*****_

We roll up to the curb outside Gipetto's carpentry shop—the window is still taped over from my recent stint here.

Gipetto is working on a cabinet when Naminé and I walk in. He looks up and smiles at me. "You forgot your things upstairs." He says, and Naminé gives me a questioning glance.

I put an arm around her shoulders. _I'll explain later_. I nod, like I didn't ditch my stuff to go commit suicide. "I know...I was actually thinking of staying and continuing to work for you if you don't mind."

"That's perfectly acceptable young man, I could really use the help around here." There's a glint in Gipetto's eye, and I know he isn't fooled by my _everything's fine_ facade. "And who is this lovely young lady?" he wonders, but I can tell he's just going through the motions for politeness' sake.

"I'm Naminé," Naminé supplies, and I'm glad for that, because now I don't have to come up with a half-assed excuse as to why she's here; neither of us wants to discuss that shit right now.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, my dear. My name is Gipetto; I'm the proprietor of this establishment." Gipetto never falters in his etiquette, shaking Naminé's hand gently. "Would you excuse Roxas and I for a moment, while we discuss the terms of his contract? We'll be brief."

"Of course." Naminé replies and stretches up to kiss my cheek. "Hurry back," she whispers.

I follow Gipetto into his office, feeling like I'm headed for the guillotine or some shit.

Gipetto shuts the door and turns to me, his expression serious and undreadable. "You have some explaining to do, boy. I don't need any gory details, but I'd like to know if I can count on you to stick around this time."

"You can count on me sir. I was...in a bad way when I left. Naminé found me and brought me back." I really don't feel the need to add anymore; while I'm grateful for his help, the situation is really none of Gipetto's fucking business anyway.

"I'm glad she did, son. She's good for you. The only conditions of your employment here are that you be productive, and that you treat Naminé right. The apartment upstairs is yours, you ma decorate it however you see fit. Your rent will be deducted from your last check of the month." Gipetto explains.

I feel a strange swell of emotion toward Gipetto—he's become more of a father to me over the past few days than my own dad, and I shake his hand heartily, grateful. "Thank you sir, I really appreciate it."

Gipetto smiles. "I'm glad to have you as an employee, Roxas, and as a friend. You're a good man. Just make sure you take care of Naminé."

I nod in reply, not sure what else to do at this point. "Will do, sir."

We head back out to the sales floor of the shop; Naminé is admiring an ornately carved easel and a set of paints.

It hits me like a fucking sledgehammer then—she left all her paintings back in Destiny Islands. That must've taken a lot of willpower on her part, and I feel like an asshole for not noticing it sooner.

Gipetto seems to pick up on my distress, and he says. "You can keep the art set, Naminé. Been trying to sell it for years now, and nobody will buy it. I'd be happy to let you take it off my hands."

Naminé beams, and I wish I could've been the one to make her smile like that; but it doesn't really matter—as long as she's happy, so am I.

I help Naminé carry the large easel up the stairs to our new apartment.

"So...It seems like you and Gipetto have some history." Naminé observes once we've gotten everything settled.

I light up a cigarette to calm myself down before I get into the story—it's pretty fucking heavy.

"After what happened with Riku, I came here because I thought I might be able to get a job. I thought things would be better for you if I stayed away."

Naminé's piercing blue eyes narrow, but she doesn't say anything.

"I got a phone call about my friend Axel—he's been in a coma since the accident. Anyway, Seifer and his dumbass cronies jumped me on the way there, and when I finally got to the hospital, Axel was gone."

"Oh, Roxas," Naminé hugs me and then pulls away so I can continue.

"I went a little nuts after that—I got drunk and smashed Gipetto's window, and he found me the next morning." I gloss over my first suicide attempt—no need to scare her. "I ended up working for him for a while to pay for the broken window, and then he said some stuff that really made me think, and that's when I tried calling you.

"Kairi said you had left that morning...and that's when I got your message. When you didn't answer the phone, I thought something happened to you too...I just couldn't go on like that. And then you came and found me at the clock tower, and well, you know the rest."

Naminé doesn't say anything for a long moment.

And then she slaps me.

Hard.

The right side of my face is on fire, and my ears are ringing, but not so much that I don't hear what she has to say.

"You fucking moron!"

I'm shocked at her effortless gutterspeak, I've always thought her to pure, to moral to talk like that, but apparently I've been wrong.

"Don't you ever do anything that stupid again!" Naminé's hugging me and crying, crushing the air from my lungs with her desperation.

I hold her for a long time before the shuddering stops, and she looks at me with a watery smile.

"I'm so glad we're together again, Roxas. I don't ever want to leave you." she says, kissing the side of my neck.

"Me too. I love you, Naminé." I tell her.

Naminé grins and kisses me. "I love you too."

When we finally pull apart, breathing raggedly, just holding each other, I whisper:

"We're gonna be okay."

For once, those words don't feel like complete and utter bullshit coming from me.

Things are finally looking up.

**Like it? Hate it? Review and let me know!**

**I know it's short, but this is more of a filler chapter to set up for the extremely important events that come in the next chapter. The story as a whole should be wrapped up in two or three chapters, and I have a feeling everyone will like the ending.**

**See you next chapter!**

**~Script**


	21. Forensic Absolution

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed/favorited this story so far, your support is what keeps me going! Keep it up!**

**I'd also like to thank you all for your patience; I'm juggling three different fics at the moment, and it takes time to produce quality writing for each one.**

**On with the show!**

_**Chapter XX: Forensic Absolution**_

_**Roxas**_

My cell phone is ringing.

I tense out of reflex as I step into our small apartment—every time the pone has rung in the past few months, someone was calling to deliver some kind of shitty news. So, needless to say, I'm not too fucking thrilled to be answering it.

"Hello?"

"Oh, Roxas thank goodness! I have wonderful news!" It's Axel's mother.

I wonder if she's finally gone off the fucking deep end with everything that's happened in the last six months—I can't imagine what kind of 'wonderful news' she's presenting so soon after her son's death...

"It's Axel! He's awake!"

My jaw drops open and I think back to the receptionist's words at the hospital:

_"Is Axel Clarke still in room 138?" _

_ "No...It looks like he's been discharged." The receptionist says._

I wasn't thinking clearly then, didn't make the connection. _Discharged_. That means he's getting better.

"That's great!" I answer, realizing that my lengthy silence is pretty fucking rude in the face of what she's just told me.

"He says he wants to see you." Axel's mother tells me. "And he says to bring Naminé...whoever that is."

"Okay, where are you guys?"

"We're in the Twilight Town Rehabilitation Hospital, down by the ice-cream parlor." she replies.

"Alright, we'll see you in a few!" I respond and then, snap the phone shut.

My face hurts from how hard I'm smiling. Axel is like a brother to me, knowing that he's okay makes things seem shitload better than they did a few minutes ago.

"What was that all about?" Naminé wonders as she saunters into the room in sweatpants and a tank top.

_Hot damn..._

That girl can make any outfit runway-worthy.

I force myself to focus so that I can tell her the good news! "That was Axel's mother, she says that her and Axel are at the Rehab center downtown!"

Naminé's face quirks into an incredibly fucking adorable confused expression. "But I thought you said he was..."

"The receptionist said he was _discharged_. Not dead. I didn't understand what she was saying because I got hit in the head when Seifer and his bitches jumped me. So, I asked again, and she said he was gone, so naturally, I assumed he was...dead."

"Oh," Naminé nods, and then smiles brightly. "That's wonderful!"

"Axel says he wants to meet you." I tell her. I'm sure the two of them will get along well, but I fully intend to shield her form the worst of Axel's crass comments.

Naminé smiles. "Okay, just let me change clothes first." She stretches up to kiss me, and then disappears into our bedroom.

_*****13*****_

Axel's room is easy enough to find—various news crews are swarming the place, and his mother is trying unsuccessfully to wrestle them back out into the hallway.

"No more questions!" She shouts, attempting to slam the door. "No more interviews!"

"Holy shit! Is that Setzer?" I call out, pointing. Setzer is the reigning champion of the Twilight Town Struggle—which is really just an excuse for everyone to beat the shit out of each other with a plastic bat—and he's become something of a celebrity in the area.

At least, enough of one to get the news crews off out backs for the time being—they bustle away down the hall and Mrs. Clarke sags against the doorframe.

"Thank you, Roxas. They've been pestering us all day for an interview; Axel's not even out of the hospital yet!"

"Greedy bastards." Naminé interjects, and I can't help but chuckle—curse words sound so out of place in her lilting, almost-childish tone of voice.

Axel's mother allows us to pass with a: "Honey your friends are here." She doesn't follow us into the room, and I'm grateful to her for giving us some privacy. "I'm going to go get some coffee from the cafeteria. Will you be alright here for a little while?"

"Sure." I reply. Axel's mom looks like she's been through hell and back—she could definitely use a break.

Naminé leans into me as we enter the room.

Axel is propped up on the bed by some pillows, with an IV drip in his arm. His hair has almost grown back to it's previous length, and his skin is no longer a chalky-pale, just-this-side-of-death color.

"How's it going, bro?" I ask. It's funny how we just fall back to our old selves like it's nothing.

"Well, the food tastes like shit, and this tube is annoying as hell, but other than that, I'm fine." Axel's turquoise eyes shift over to Naminé and he gives her a friendly smile. "You must be Naminé. I've heard a lot about you."

Naminé's eyes flash to mine in confusion, but she takes it in stride and nods. "It's nice to meet you, Axel."

"So," Axel turns to me. "How've things...been? I heard bits and pieces of it on the news when they first brought me in, so I'm pretty much up to speed...Is it really as bad as everyone's saying?"

I know he's referring to the whole situation with the bus crash. Even in six months, the people's hatred of me for their children's death hasn't lessened at all. "Shitty. I took most of the heat for it...there was nobody who could explain what happened, so I got blamed."

Axel whistles. "Shit, man. That's fucked up. Are the news crews still out there?"

Naminé presses her face against the window set in the door to Axel's room. "Yep."

"Let them in. I think an interview is in order." Axel tells her.

Naminé reluctantly pulls the door open and the reporters flood cameras flashing, words spilling over each other in a messy jumble as they all try to interview him at once!

Finally, Axel's had enough. "_Shut the fuck up!_"

I was just about to say the same thing.

A forced calm descends over the room.

"You can have your interview, since you're all so damn desperate for the gory details, but this is a one-time-only thing, and I don't want to hear anything else about it when we're finished here." Axel snaps.

The cluster of various news representatives nod as one, like they're part of a hive-mind or some shit.

Within a few minutes, Axel's hospital room becomes a makeshift press conference. Cameras are rolling, the broadcasting equipment has been set up, and everyone in the room apart from Naminé and I waits with bated breath to find out what Axel has to say.

"So, Mr. Clarke, can you tell us what you remember of the accident?"

Axel shrugs. "Sure. Xemnas, one of the players on our team brought some alcohol on the bus, and he started passing it around when we started heading back to town from out game."

"Did you have any of the liquor yourself, Mr. Clarke?" a newscaster poses

My muscles ripple with tension at the insinuation that Axel's memory might not be reliable.

"No. I did not." Axel snaps.

"What happened next?" someone else asks.

"Well, Xemnas got himself pretty damn wasted and the bus was all over the fuckin' road. I went up front to see if he'd let me drive—he broke my nose for my trouble. After that he got pissed off at another team member and turned around to yell at him and that's when the bus went over the edge. I bailed out through a window." Axel relates.

"And you went down to the scene of the crash after that?"

"Yeah, everyone was dead except for Roxas and his sister, but she died before they could get her to the hospital. I managed to get Roxas and his sister out, and then the bus exploded and I ended up in here." Axel finished.

"Do you have any information regarding the rumors that Roxas Cambridge is actually the one who crashed the bus?" someone else wonders.

Axel doesn't look at me, and for that I'm grateful—the last thing I need is another fucking inquisition. Instead, he stares directly at each and every person from the press before responding.

And then, in front of the entire viewing audience—for all intents and purposes, the world, Axel frees me from the shackles that have made my life a living hell for the past six months.

"I don't know where the fuck you're getting your info from, but somebody fucked up when they told you that. Roxas had absolutely nothing to do with the events on the bus, other than being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Seriously, you guys need to check your fucking sources. Anymore questions?" Axel growls.

The newscasters at least have the good grace to look embarrassed. "No," They all mumble at the same time before excusing themselves in that same hive-mind synchronization, no doubt in a hurry to get the fuck out of Axel's room.

"Thanks." I tell him.

Axel waves a hand like it's no big deal. "What are friends for?"

_*****13*****_

After we say our goodbyes to an exhausted Axel and his mother, Naminé and I return to our apartment.

There's a message on our answering machine—I don't know if I'll ever be able to avoid that stomach clenching sense of dread that grips me whenever the phone rings; it sure as hell doesn't look that way.

However, the message on the machine is a happy one.

"_Hey guys! It's Kairi—and Sora—sorry we missed you, but we have some really exciting news to share!_" Kairi's voice, made tinny by the shitty speaker on the answering machine, is bubbling with excitement.

There's a cursory pause, like they're waiting for us to ask what it is, or guess as to what it might be, and then they jump right back into the message in perfect unison.

"_We're getting married!_"

Huh.

Go figure.

**Thoughts? Anyone? Review!**

**I'm shooting for a grand total of 100 reviews by the end of the story, I know you can do it!**

**Catch you on the flipside,**

**~Script**


	22. Hot Hands and Fingerpaints

**Disclaimer: No. Just no.**

**Thanks to everyone for your continued support! You guys are awesome!**

**One more chapter to go after this, and then it's time to wrap things up.**

**On with the show!**

_**Chapter XXI: Hot Hands and Fingerpaints**_

_**Roxas**_

In all honesty, it's a little scary how normal it's becoming for me to wake up next to Naminé in the morning.

We're tangled in the sheets and she's sprawled out on top of me, head on my chest, all sweet and peaceful and shit.

Naminé stirs and gives this fucking adorable little yawn, and kisses the underside of my chin.

_Damn..._

"Morning," her voice is dry and scratchy, and I'm sure mine isn't much better.

"Morning." I kiss the top of her head.

"What time is it?" Naminé wonders, sitting up slowly.

I look over at the bedside clock. "Nine-fifteen..." I groan inwardly; I only have a few minutes before I have to head down to Gipetto's shop for the day.

"Shit!" Naminé exclaims and I chuckle—I don't think I'll ever get used to the sound of her swearing. She's out of bed before I can blink—and part of me is a little disappointed by her absence—snatching clothes out of the dresser like the fucking energizer bunny on speed before hopping into the shower.

I barely have time to fry up some eggs for breakfast and throw some toast in the toaster before Naminé's back out of the bathroom, toothbrush sticking out of her foam covered mouth.

She mumbles something unintelligible, all I can make out is "'Ank 'oo."

I assume it's a thank you for the breakfast. "You're welcome. What's the rush?"

Naminé ducks into the bathroom for a minute, when she returns, her hair is in perfect order, and her mouth is free of toothpaste-foam. "I promised Kairi that I'd meet her to discuss some wedding stuff last night. We're supposed to meet at ten." Naminé explains, pausing to wolf down her breakfast. "Thanks Roxas, you didn't have to make breakfast."

I shrug, because it's really not that big of a deal, but I'm glad it makes her happy. "No problem." And then, a question surfaces in my head that almost makes me laugh; We're so fucking far past the more-than-friends point that the question seems unneccessary, but it bothers me that I haven't asked before this.

"Naminé?"

"Hmm?" Naminé brushes crumbs away from her mouth with a napkin.

"Will you be my girlfriend?"

It's quiet for a beat, and all I can think is: _Oh, shit_... Because, considering how well things have been going lately, I'm kind of due for another fuck-up right about now...

But then, Naminé has that fucking radiant smile on her face and I know I shouldn't have been worried in the first place.

"Of course, Roxas," She leans in for a fast, hard, urgent kiss, and then pulls away with a quiet moan. "Sorry, babe. I have to go now...Have a good day at work, alright?" She kisses my cheek, and I barely have time to say:

"You too," before she's out the door and gone.

As I clean up our mess from breakfast, I notice that Naminé left her sketchbook on the nightstand next to the bed, and it hits me—she's had to sacrifice so much to be with me, and she hasn't once complained about any of it.

Her artwork is fucking incredible, and even though she doesn't talk about it much, I know that it's her dream to be recognized for her talents.

I look around the apartment and I realize that the place has two rooms, another glance at the sketchbook, and my mind is made up: It's time to give something back.

I grab a notepad and start jotting down my shopping list for after my shift in the shop:

**Painter's tape**

** White interior gloss paint.**

** Art supplies**

** Blank canvas**

_ Here's looking at you, kid. _

_*****13*****_

_Just finished discussing wedding plans w/ Kairi. Be home soon! :) 3_

The text message shakes me from my almost-trance and the time gives me a jolt.

_Holy shit..._

I've been fixing up the room for six hours, give or take—I had to run to the store for an easel and a drafting table and laying the flooring took two hours by itself. The spare bedroom is now an almost exact replica of Naminé's studio back in Destiny Islands.

I have to resist the urge to buff my fingernails as I take a look at the results of all my hard work.

_Hot damn...I'm pretty fucking good._

I'd like to take more time to gloat, but I want the studio to be a surprise, and Destiny Islands is only a half hour away; which means I've got my work cut out for me if I want to get all this shit cleaned up before Naminé gets home.

It isn't a fun job, but I kind of like the everyday feel of it—it's nice to feel normal for a change. No sooner have I finished putting away the supplies and changed my shirt, than Naminé's walking in the door—she looks happy, but also pretty fucking exhausted.

"Hey," Naminé mutters, pulling me into a hug before kissing me softly.

"Hey," I murmur against her lips. It kills me to pull away, I _want_ her so badly, but she's tired, and even though I want to be, I'm just not that fucking selfish. "How was your day, love?"

Naminé smiles up at me and she leans against my chest for a minute before she says anything.

"It was good. Tiring, but good. Kairi asked me to be her Maid of Honor in the wedding..." Naminé stifles a yawn. She's fading fast, and I want to show her the studio before she turns in for the night.

"That's great Naminé," I take her by the shoulders gently. "I have something to show you."

"Roxas...I'm sleepy." Naminé whines.

"I know; It'll be quick, I promise. Just close your eyes."

"So tired," Naminé mumbles, but closes her eyes anyway.

I take her by the hand and lead her into the spare bedroom, flicking on the lights for the full effect.

"Okay, you can open your eyes now."

Naminé gasps, and it's a joyful sound, so I'm not too worried.

"Do you like it?" I ask hesitantly, because there's always that remote possibility that I fucked up majorly and brought back some bad memories or some shit...

"I love it!" Naminé almost squeals and bounds over to the easel, fingering all the new art supplies. She makes a complete circuit of the room before coming back to me, grinning like a fool. She presses her lips to mine, hard and fast and desperate before taking my hands and pulling me over to the easel.

"Do you want to learn how to paint?" Naminé questions, but her eyes tell me she's asking a different question entirely.

I nod, because my mouth is suddenly too dry to speak with.

Naminé stands behind me and presses a brush into my hand.

"Make slow, smooth strokes," She whispers, her mouth right next to the shell of my ear.

_Fuck..._

"Try to relax; if you grip the brush too tight, you won't be able to hold it steady." Her voice is dripping with double meanings. "Easy does it," She guides my hand over the canvas, leaning in to kiss the side of my neck.

Her teeth graze over the flesh as her lips trace their way back to my ear.

"_Daft Punk_ had it all wrong...When you're an artist, it's not: 'harder, better, faster, stronger.' It's slower...sweeter...softer...longer."

The flash-burn of desire is too much to take and I whirl, the paintbrush tumbles from my hand and I press her up against the wall, resisting the urge that says _take her! _With every iota of self-control I have. "Is that advice for me or you?"

Naminé gives me a sultry little pout—so fucking sexy—and smirks as she reaches for the hem of my shirt to pull it over my head. "I don't know...You tell me..."

"Watch and learn,"

**Like it? Hate it? Review!**

**Yeah...I don't write lemons. Sorry. But, I'm sure you can imagine what happens next. The next chapter will wrap everything up, that's why this one is so short.**

**See you next chapter!**

**~Script**


	23. Catharsis

**Disclaimer: If you don't know by now, shame on you.**

**Okay everyone, it's time for the grand finale! Yes, unfortunately, it's time to bring _Lucky 13_ to a close, but I think you'll all enjoy the ending...**

**On with the show!**

_**Chapter XXII: Catharsis**_

_Four Months Later..._

_**Naminé**_

The wedding goes off without a hitch.

Kairi is ever the blushing bride, and it's almost impossible for her to sit still while the priest does his thing.

And then, before I have time to really prepare myself, the moment of truth is her.

"Do you, Kairi Imatsu, take Sora Hikashi to be your lawfully wedded husband? To love, and to cherish, and to deeply respect, for as long as you both shall live?"

Kairi's voice is quaking, and even though I know it'll ruin my makeup, I can't quite hold back the tears when she says: "I do."

The priest turns to Sora, a smile on his face. "And do you, Sora Hikashi, take Kairi Imatsu to be your lawfully wedded wife? To love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?"

Sora's million-watt smile lights up the chapel. "I do."

"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride." The priest has barely finished speaking before Sora and Kairi are kissing like nobody's business, in the kind of liplock that has parent's covering their kids' eyes.

Sora scoops Kairi up in his arms and carries her back down the aisle, leading the wedding party out onto the massive garden on a cliff overlooking the sea where the reception is to be hosted.

Kairi hurls her bouquet into the air and it tumbles in a lazy arc, somehow managing to end up in my hands.

Roxas links his arm with mine—he is my escort after all—and I can't quite stop the thrill that sears my veins at his touch. His beautiful blue eyes meet mine, and he winks.

And that's when I feel it.

That despite everything we've been through, despite the fact that the past six months have been an absolute mess, we're going to be okay.

I lean against Roxas' arm.

Living.

Breathing.

Being.

And then I let myself smile, a real, genuine smile and then I pull Roxas onto the dance floor.

It _is _a party after all.

_*****13*****_

_**Roxas**_

I've gotta hand it to Sora and Kairi:

They throw one hell of a party.

The dance floor is packed with people, and Naminé and I brave the crowd just long enough to congratulate the newlyweds and then we hang back, slowly swaying together on the fringe of the thrashing mob of partygoers.

We're underage, but they serve us champagne anyway, call it lax standards, call it tradition. Either way, I'm not complaining about free booze.

At least not until I realize that it tastes like shit. I down the champagne flute out of courtesy, but politely refuse the next time the server comes by.

And even then, I keep my thoughts to myself, because today isn't about me.

This is Sora and Kairi's chance to be happy, and I'm not going to ruin it for them.

Naminé on the other hand, doesn't seem to mind the taste at all, and she drinks more than she should.

A_ lot_ more.

She doesn't draw any extra attention to herself—after all, everyone knows that parties are just an excuse to get shit-faced anyway.

But, when she starts mumbling that she isn't drunk, she's just tipsy, and stumbling into random people, I realize that it's probably time to head out before she makes a scene.

I take her by the hand, and we head back to the car. I intend to take her home so she sleep it off in peace, but I end up going to the cemetery instead.

I'm not entirely sure what draws me there, and when I see Xion sitting on her gravestone, I have to wonder if maybe I'm just a little bit plastered myself.

Because this...

This is impossible.

Some kind of freakish, fevered, waking dream.

But I don't want to wake up.

"Hey," Xion gets up slowly and comes over to give me a hug.

I tense reflexively, because everytime I've seen her over the past few months, some fucked-up shit has happened immediately afterward.

She squeezes my tightly, and I want so badly to believe that she's really here—but I know it's not real. "It's okay, Roxas. I'm not going to hurt you." Xion pulls back and smiles.

"I know," I jam my hands into my pockets; reaching out to ruffle her hair like I always do—_did—_is just going to make this hallucination that much more painful when it ends. "I...I've really missed you."

Xion lunges forward, her arms snaking around my middle in that same vice-like hug. "I miss you too, Roxas." She pulls back, her ocean-blue eyes glistening with tears. She dashes them away, and then gives me her million-watt smile. "You know, I never did get to thank you."

Huh? "Thank me?"

"Yes."

"I don't understand..." I'm floundering, drowning, trying to remember what she could possibly be talking about without revisiting exactly what's made my life a living hell for the past ten months.

"You tried to save me. Roxas, you were the best big brother in the world; I loved you more than anything. I need you to listen to me—what happened on the bus...It wasn't your fault, Roxas. You tried your best, sometimes, it just isn't enough, sometimes..." Xion pauses, almost like it's for dramatic effect, and she gives me this little rueful smile. "Sometimes, shit happens. But that doesn't mean it was your fault. I don't blame you, Roxas. Not even for a second."

The weight I've been carrying on my shoulders for the last ten months just evaporates.

Gone.

Just like that.

"Thank you." My gratitude comes out as more of an exhalation.

"It's okay, Roxas. Go on. Live your life. Make Naminé happy. It's okay...I'll be here whenever you need me." Xion smiles again, and then slowly fades into nothing, against the backdrop of the tangerine sky over the cemetery.

I wipe the tears from my face and slowly walk back to the car, where Naminé is patiently waiting.

"Come on," I reach out to take her hand gently. "Let's go home."

**And...that's a wrap!**

**Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Anyone? Review!**

**I'd like to take a moment to thank everyone who Reviewed/Followed/Favorited this story:**

_**Marionette of Ancient Relics**_

_**animeluv3**_

_**Norkix**_

_**Armyx**_

_**MissTechnicality**_

_**Unwritten-Memories**_

_**MyPitifulEmbrace**_

_**Formidable Rain**_

_**Number **_

_**TifaRokkuhato**_

_**shoang**_

_**GenieLUV**_

_**The darkness**_

_**GummyDrive**_

_**rokunami**_

_**Burai Stelar**_

_**coo fart490**_

_**peacehomie3**_

_**namiroku**_

_**gdiukdsbkc**_

_**karti**_

_**princesslove90**_

_**chibivampire**_

_**RokuNami13**_

_**Anonymousu**_

_**Krajesh**_

_**Austin**_

_**Justice333**_

_**silentkiller1191**_

_**Sapphire Intensity**_

_**Gohan Roxas**_

_**neku sakuraba**_

_**no name given**_

_**KingdomKuroGeass**_

_**All (Guest) reviewers!**_

**Seriously, you guys are amazing. I'm incredibly lucky to have fans like you—this story would not have been possible without your support. Keep your eyes peeled for my other stories if you wish...**

**Until next time!**

**~Script Savage**


End file.
